


The Brothers Wilde

by JudysCarrotPen (toriels_sock_drawer)



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Brothers Wilde AU, Con Artists, Explicit Language, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage, Nothing Explicitly Described, Slow Build, hold on tight this one is gonna be long, only if you look between the lines in the most recent chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-23 13:20:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 32,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7464888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toriels_sock_drawer/pseuds/JudysCarrotPen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"As far as con man stories go, you’ve probably heard them all.<br/>Of grifters, ropers, faro fixers, tales drawn long and tall.<br/>But if you search for a story to leave you most beguiled,<br/>Lend an ear and hear the tale of the infamous Brothers Wilde."</p><p>An AU based on the movie The Brothers Bloom (2009). Finnick and Nick Wilde are a pair of notorious con artists who have traveled the globe. Nick is tired of the life, and he wants out. Finnick convinces him to do one last con together, and he promises to set him free to live an "unwritten life". Their last and final mark: a quiet and secluded heiress named Judy Hopps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> This is completely self indulging. This is one of my favorite movies, and after seeing Zootopia, I couldn't help but notice the similarities between the characters. I had a need and fulfilled it.  
> Enjoy. Or don't. Either is fine.

     By the age of nine and twelve, Nicholas and Finnick Wilde (the younger and the older) had been through several foster families. Thirty-eight, all told. There were many reasons for their transferences, for mischief was in their blood--if you were to look in their case files under “REASON FOR RETURN OF MINORS”, you would find listings such as “Inappropriate Behavior”, “Unmanageable”, “Sold Furniture” and “Caused Flooding”--but it kept them moving on in life, and moving kept them close. For Nicholas had Finnick, Finnick Nicholas, and both had more than most.

     When they found themselves dropped into the middle of Cedar Grove with their thirty-ninth pair of parents, it took one look to size up the town. Another home, another main street, an unrelenting pattern. Finnick summed it up masterfully:

     “Nick, we’ve hit a one hat town,” he told him. He was right.

     One theater. One car wash. One cafe. One park. One laundromat. One token cat. Whom, through some mishap, had one leg.

     One school, which meant one tight-knit group of local well-off kids.

     They were the _they._ All well loved, rooted, happy as you please. Always there in every town. ‘The playground bourgeoisies’ Finnick called them.

     After school, the kids would waste their happy afternoons away in the fields. The brothers, however, prefered to watch  from a distance. As they sat there in the foliage, eating pawpsicles they bought from the town’s one candy store, they watched the children play. So carefree and naïve.

     “It makes me sick,” Finnick said. “Let’s go. It’s all boring me to death.”

     Finnick flicked his barren stick over his shoulder and began to saunter back into the woods. Nick stood to follow. He gave one last look at the children…

     ...and saw _her._ A vixen. About his age. Sitting in the grass making daisy chains. She was wearing a pretty yellow dress with a delicate white embroidery on the sleeves and rim of the skirt. She looked so comfortably happy, sitting there in the grass. Not a care in the world.

     Nick heard Finnick slowly approach him, and heard him stop to look over his shoulder. He snickered.

     She was a dream fully realized. She had Nick under her spell, and he found himself completely helpless. Part of him wanted to join her--to join _them._ It all seemed so _fun_ , to cartwheel in the tall grass and play catch through the trees and roll around in the wildflowers together. But...could he do it? Could he simply--

     “Talk to her!”

     Finnick gave him a shove, and Nick sprawled face-first out into the open. He lifted his head to see the girl in front of him. Their eyes connected.

     Should he do it, he thought? Just drop his fears and go? Leave his brother in the woods, and join the rest of the children?

     No.

     Nick quickly stood up and ran back into the shelter of the forest.

* * *

 

     Finnick sat on the floor with his deck of cards. Nick was already in bed. He watched as Finnick skillfully layered the cards together, one by one and at gratifying speed. It was quite mesmerizing. The ruffling sound of the plastic cards rifling together against the hardwood floor, Finnick’s eyes staring into the patterns on the back. Finally, Nick piped up.

     “What’s up?” he asked.

     Finnick’s ear twitched.

     “What?”

     “You shuffle when you’re thinking something through,” Nick said. “So waddya thinking?”

     “Nothing,” Finnick said.

     This wasn’t really true, and Nick knew it.

     In the root of Finnick’s psyche, something was now beginning. A seed of grand epiphany. A hook. A tale.

     A plan.

* * *

 

     Finnick spread the crumpled flowchart on his bed. Nick kneeled next to him. The two surveyed the myriad of boxes that Finnick had carved across the page. Nick tried to decipher them, but the meandering lines and numbers confused him.

     “What is it?” he asked Finnick.

     It was _perfect_ , was what it was. A simple con in fifteen steps. A fiction made for profit, in which both boys played a part.

     “It’s bound to work,” Finnick said, “It’s completely foolproof. The whole thing is perfectly planned out.”

     “Do you think it’ll work?” Nick asked.

     “Are you kidding? Of course it’ll work!” Finnick said. “And this is where we start.”

     Finnick pointed to box number one. Inside were the words _Nick talks to Girl_. Nick’s eyes widened. Finnick gave him a look.

     “I can trust you in this, right? You won’t bail out on me?”

     “No,” Nick said, swallowing. “No, I won’t.”

     “Promise?”

     “Promise.”

* * *

 

     Nick stood behind the bushes, watching the children play. He knew that when he stepped out into the open, the con began. He was the trigger. The spark. The switch that started the cruel money-making machine his brother had built. So much pressure had been put onto him to play his part, to wield the upright veil between play and reality. If he missed one step, the whole thing came crashing down.

     Nick wrung his paws as he stared at children. He looked over his shoulder at Finnick, watching him from a distance. Finnick angrily presented his open paw in the direction of the kids. Nick turned around and swallowed. It was now or never.

     Nick took a deep breath, stood up straight, and marched into the open.

     And then, as if a curtain had been pulled back from the sky, a barrier inside the younger Wilde had been broken.

     He stopped in front of the girl. He presented his paw.

     “Hi,” he said with a smile. “I’m Nick. Can I play with you?”

     The young vixen looked him over, silent. He waited. Finally, she grinned, and placed her hand in his.

     “Hi Nick,” she said, “I’m Penelope. Wanna play tag?”

     And thus, Nick played his role in Finnick’s story to perfection, and being who he wasn’t, could be as he wished to be.

     And it worked beautifully. The children accepted him with open arms. He became one of them. He was included in their daisy chains, their games of catch, and in their rolling in the flowers. For the first time in his life, he didn’t feel alone. He felt like part of the pack. And it felt great.

      He lost himself in these few golden moments that he could capture. Sometimes, he even forgot it was all a clever ruse. He would let his guard down and would find himself slipping into genuine joy. He would forget it all until he would come home and see Finnick with his supplies, preparing for the event to come.

     It was on a night like this that the final steps of the brilliant con were thrown into motion.

     Nick walked in the door to see Finnick dragging a large cooler filled with water across the hardwood floor. Nick offered to help, but Finnick shooed him away. He followed Finnick into their bedroom, and sat down on his bed. With one mighty push, Finnick shoved the cooler under the bedside table.

      “So,” he said, “How’s it going on the playground front?”

      “It’s great.”

     “Perfect. Now, it’s time to move on to step eleven--”

     “Wait, Finnick…”

     Finnick looked up at Nick. He was sitting on the bed with his knees hugged into his chest. His brow was furrowed. Finnick straightened up.

     “What, Nick?”

     Must the steps rattle on? Must the fiction end? Must this perfect dream finally come to a halt?

     Nick gulped. “I...I think I need more time to...to gain their--”

     “Nick, come on. Don’t get lost in this fantasy. These kids...they’re not your friends.”

      Each word was a dagger in Nick’s heart.

     “None of this is real, remember?” Finnick continued, “This is a con. And when it’s done, we’ve just got us. And we’ll be moving on.”

     Nick wiped his nose. He rested his chin on his knees. He knew that this moment would come, but he wasn’t ready for it all to end. However, the show had to go on.

     “Now,” Finnick said, “The tale. Tomorrow, when you see, tell them that…”

* * *

 

     The kids sat in a semicircle, Nick placed in the middle. They stared at him with large, hopeful eyes. Anticipation hung in the air. He had their full, undivided attention. He began his story, just as he had rehearsed.

     “There’s a hermit in the woods,” Nick began. “I know because I saw him. A one eyed, steel-toothed vagabond with blood red eyes. He stopped me coming home from school, and told me of a cave…”

     “What kind of cave?” asked Penelope.

     “A cave of _wonders…”_

     “That’s stupid,” a weasel said.

     “Shut up, Dave!” Penelope snapped.

     “He said--” continued Nick, “--that at noon on every Sunday, there appears a ball of light, that flutters like a butterfly--”

     “A will-o-whisp?” Penelope asked.

     “That’s right!” said Nick. “It guides you... _if_ you can keep up...to where treasures lay.”

     “Where is this _cave?”_ a voice asked.

     “Ah-hah!” Nick said, as he snapped his fingers, “He didn’t say. He got this greedy, glinting look...and said he’d only tell...for thirty bucks.”

     An awed silence sat over the crowd. Suddenly, an otter jumped up.

     “Hey, wait! That’s just two bucks each!”

     And just like that, Nick was met with a flurry of cheers and fistfuls of cash. Everything was going according to plan.

* * *

 

     And so, Sunday came, and Nick lead his troop of followers straight from church into the deep, dark woods. A line of white serpentined through the trees, laughing, skipping, and holding hands. They were all going on an adventure. To find the will-o-whisp, and the treasure to which it lead.

     They turned a corner, and there it was. A gaping maw that lead into darkness, right between the trees. Their hearts leapt.

     “Just like the hermit said,” Penelope whispered.

      Penelope held Nick’s hand. He felt his fur stand on the back of his neck. They all watched in silence, waiting for _something._

     There was a tiny flicker of light.

     They gasped.

     From the depths of the cave, they saw a tiny beam, fluttering like a butterfly. It gently hovered a couple feet above the ground. Suddenly, it zipped away into the darkness.

     The kids ran into the cave in happy pursuit. They tripped and skidded and fumbled over each other, desperate to catch the light. For just one moment, Nick forgot himself and ran too fast. He passed the children and pulled up ahead. He’d catch the light and find the treasure…

     But all he found as he turned the corner was Finnick holding his flashlight, shooing Nick away as he ran deeper into the cave. Nick watched as the kids slipped and fell into the mud where Finnick had emptied the cooler. They didn’t care. They kept running and laughing, determined to find the treasure. But the real world had come crashing down around the younger Wilde. The moment had passed.

     They didn’t catch the will-o-whisp. But they didn’t really care. Nick watched as they all ran back home, happy-go-lucky. They still lived in that beautiful dream that Nick wished to be a part of. Maybe, he thought, dreams just weren’t meant for him.

     He heard the small sound of footsteps approach him from behind, followed by the ruffling of paper. Nick turned to see Finnick, fanning a clump of cash.

     “Well, from what it seems like,” Finnick said, waving the money to Nick, “you played your part beautifully.”

     “Thanks,” Nick murmured.

     They watched for a while in silence as the kids disappeared into the horizon. Nick let out a sigh. Finnick glanced at him.

     “Hey, what’s gotten into you?”

     “Hm? Oh, nothing…”

     Finnick stared pensively at Nick for a moment, and then looked back down at the pile of cash in his paws. He chuckled.

     “You know, it seems to me that in the end, the perfect con is where each one involved gets just the thing they wanted.” Finnick said. Nick scratched his neck.

     “Yeah,” he said, “I guess so.”

     Did they both get what they wanted? Nick wasn’t entirely sure. In reality, he didn’t quite remember what he had wanted in the first place. In the end, did it really matter? It was over. There was no going back. Nick found himself beginning to care less.

     It seemed our fledgeling thieves were satisfied.

* * *

 

     The children’s parents, less so. The Wilde’s foster parents were met that evening with the entirety of Cedar Grove at their doorstep, with soiled children by the ears. This was shocking sight, to say the least.

     Thus, after a brief smacking and bashful refund, the Wilde brothers were once again filed for a transference to a new family. Their reason for return: larceny. They packed their things, and the next morning, off they went.

     A bitter ending? Maybe. But there’s sweetness in the mix. The brothers Wilde had found their calling, as shown in number six:

     “Cut % O’Halibut’s”

     “Cut” meant to negotiate, “%” percentage deal, and “O’Halibut’s”, the one dry clean shop in Cedar Grove. Where else would all those muddy Sunday school clothes be taken to? One hour of work later, the brothers left fifty dollars richer.

     And so, with box of pawpsicles in hand, Finnick lead Nick to the bus stop. Nick followed behind, suitcase and pawpsicle boxes in tow. They sat and waited, licking away at the treats.

     “So,” asked Finnick, “How does it feel?”

     In truth, young Nick wouldn’t know for twenty years how it felt.

     On the other side of the street, a car labeled “CHILD WELLFARE” pulled up. The back seat doors popped open. The brothers stood up.

     “Let ‘em melt,” said Finnick, tossing his unfinished popsicle over his shoulder. He dropped the box he was holding onto the concrete. He walked towards the car. Nick followed, but not before taking one last look over his shoulder at the children playing, the once shining dream that had now crumbled to dust. He reluctantly turned and carried his suitcase towards the next chapter in his life.


	2. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bearlin, 25 years later

     The flames had completely engulfed the bookshelf. They were quickly spreading through the doorway and down the hall. The whole house was about to collapse. A disheveled fox in a nice, black suit stepped in front of the burning shelves, laughing.

     “So, this is it!” He said. “He gets the scarab, you get the money...and I get the girl. So in the end...everyone gets everything he wants!”

     Three gunshots erupted from a few feet away. There were now three bloody holes in the nice, black suit and the fox crumpled to the ground. Blood slowly began to collect underneath him. A smaller mammal rushed to him.

     “What th--oh my god, Weaselton, what have you done? Are you cra--Victor’s dead, Weaselton! You killed him! He was the only one who knew where the money was! You idiot, what are we gonna do?!”

     A weasel eyed the smaller one nervously as he held the smoking barrel of a gun at the corpse. He slowly lowered it.

     “You’re not here,” he said, “Neither of us are here. It’s Lupin’s gun.”

     “Lupin is sitting in the bottom of the Spree with a cowl on his neck!” the smaller mammal yelled. “Listen to you...four months ago you were an investment banker, look at what you’ve become!”

     “The mammal named Weaselton you met nine months and a thousand years ago at a hotel bar is dead.” said Weaselton. “If we see each other again, it’ll be as strangers. As for the money...let it rot!”

     Weaselton pocketed the gun and ran down the hallway. The door opened with a creak and was slammed shut. There was the roar of an engine, and then the sound of squealing tires on asphalt as a car took off down the road. There was a long silence.

     Someone began to descend the stairs. The small mammal looked up to see a honey badger in a trench coat and bright red boots, holding a lit butane torch. She lit a cigarette with it. She raised an eyebrow. 

     “ _ Wow _ ,” said the smaller one, a smile appearing on his face. He gave the corpse a playful punch in the shoulder. “ _ Wow  _ is the word you’re looking for,  _ WOW _ !”

     The honey badger rolled her eyes and blew out the torch.

     The corpse slowly sat up and spat some blood out of his mouth. “You’re a genius, Finnick,” he grumbled.

     “No, we’re a genius, Nick” Finnick replied. He smiled at him.

* * *

 

_      Now, in defense of the shit-eating grin on my older brother’s face, what he just pulled off was pretty amazing. He hinged the entire con on this question: would Weaselton--the spineless mark--would he actually pull that trigger? Maybe. But, Finnick wanted better odds than that.  _

_      He positioned me in a similar spot to where his wife six years ago had told him she was leaving him. He picked my suit to match her outfit. He even phonetically matched my final words to hers. _

_      -“This is the end, Weaselton...you’ve always been such a dunce.” _

_      -“So in the end...everyone gets everything he wants!” _

* * *

 

     Nick spat out some more blood. He wiped his mouth.

     “Tastes like tin foil,” he said.

     “So does real blood,” Finnick said. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

     Finnick grabbed Nick’s hand and helped him up. Nick picked his bowler hat off the floor and placed it on his head. He wiped some of the fake blood on his pants as he followed Honey and Finnick out the door.

     They emerged from the estate--now fully engulfed in flames--and made their way to a black 1964 Ponyiac. Nick turned to Finnick as they walked down the driveway.

     “ ‘Nine months and a thousand years ago.’ That’s Kitling, isn’t it? He stole that from Kitling.”

     “No,” Finnick said.

     “Then what was it?”

     “I don’t know. Pretentious either way.”

     “Hey, look who’s talking.”

     They stepped into the car and drove into the bumbling city.

* * *

 

     “Look out, child, it’s the Brothers Wilde!”

     This is what the brothers were met with the moment they stepped into the bar, followed by cheers from all around. About two dozen mammals were waiting for them, all there to celebrate the success of the con. All of them had in some way been involved. Be they suppliers of information or integral characters in the plot, they were all behind the final product, and the victory called for a celebration.

     Finnick eventually found himself sitting around a poker table with some of the keystone players, one of them being a rather robust cheetah named Clawhauser, nicknamed ‘The Turk’. He ran a finger through his whiskers, laughing.

     “Nine months, six countries, three faked deaths, all for one mark,” he said with a chuckle. He pushed some chips forward on the table. “You’re a beautiful antique, you little fox.”

     “I’ll drink to that,” said Finnick, to which the table clinked glasses.

     “One thing baffles me, though,” said Clawhauser. “The entire con would have fallen apart if Weaselton had walked away. How did you know he would pull the trigger?”

     Finnick took the deck of cards and shuffled them. “Think of a card, any card,” he said.

     “Okay.”

     “You got it?”

     “Yeah.”

     Finnick revealed the two of spades. He raised an eyebrow at Clawhauser. Clawhauser shook his head with a chortle.

     “No,” he said.

     “But if I do it enough, eventually it’ll work on someone,” said Finnick, sliding the card back into the deck. “And then it’ll be the best damn card trick in the world.”

     The table erupted in polite laughter. Finnick began to deal the cards.

     “It’s true you never work with the same crew twice?” asked Clawhauser.

     “That’s true,” Finnick replied.

     “Well I’ll be damned.” said Clawhauser. Suddenly, he lowered his voice and leaned in to Finnick. “Well, except for the...for her?”

     Finnick looked over his shoulder. Honey was standing at the bar, looking indifferent as ever. She was being pestered by a wasted bear.

     “Who, Honey?”

     “Yeah.”

     “Ha! Yeah, she’s our fifth Beagle,” he said. “She knows the ins and the outs, and as far as I can tell, she speaks about three words of English.”

     Honey looked to the bartender.

     “Campari,” she said. Word number one.

     “So,” Clawhauser said, “she’s with you and Nick until the end?”

     “Just ‘til the wind changes,” said Finnick.

     “Hey wait a second,” said Clawhauser, “Where  _ is  _ Nick?”

* * *

 

     Nick was sitting in a veiled booth, alone. He was playing solitaire. He had seemed to have put himself in a corner, for he now had a queen with which he had no idea what to do with. There was nowhere it could be placed, and he couldn’t move any other cards around. He was trapped.

     He heard curtains draw back, and a presence entered the alcove. He didn’t look up. He heard it come around to his side and look over his shoulder.

     “There you are.”

     It was a wolf. She was wearing a white sequined dress, and had a feathered headpiece. Her voice was low and husky.

     “Hiding?”

     “Yeah,” Nick said.

     She sat down on the other side of the booth, across from him.

     “You know, I’ve been learning,” she said. “About the nefarious Brothers Wilde…”

     “Is that your word, or Finnick’s?”

     “He likes to talk about you.”

     “Lemme guess, did he tell you the cave story?”

     “Is it true?”

     Nick sighed, and twirled the card with his fingertips. “What else did he tell you?”

     “Well,” the wolf began, as she leaned forward on the table, “I’m not gonna tell it as good as Finnick, but...you two kicked around until your early teens, then stowed away on a merchant marine freighter and ended up on the grotty outskirts of St. Cheetahsburg. That’s where you spent five years under the tutelage of a shadowy old swindler named Koslov. And he was your Fagin, and Finnick was his Artful Dodger, but it ended...suddenly and badly.”

     “Finnick took his eye out with an antique rapier,” Nick said. He took a sip of his drink.

     “Really?” the wolf asked. “Why did he--”

     “--and then the Brothers Wilde lit out on their own to make their fortune as gentleman thieves. Sounds romantic.”

     “It sure does…”

     The wolf pushed the cards aside and leaned forward across the table, her nose just inches from Nick. Her eyes slowly drooped closed as she slowly started to lean in further. Nick stared blankly at her.

     “You don’t actually want to kiss me,” he said plainly.

     Her lids opened. “How do you know?” she asked.

     “You only think you want to,” said Nick, “Finnick made you think so. Because that’s what Finnick does, he writes his cons the way dead Russians write novels, with thematic arcs and imbedded symbolism and shit. And he wrote me as a vulnerable anti-hero. And that’s why you think you wanna kiss me. It’s a con. Don’t you see?”

     Nick threw the card on the table and stormed out of the booth.

     He walked past countless tables and mammals still partying, past the bar, past the gambling tables filled with half-drunk hooligans betting the rest of the money on their backs. He began to approach Finnick at his table.

     “I need air,” he said as he walked past.

     “Who doesn’t?” Finnick said, watching him leave. “Hey!”

      Nick climbed up the stairs and out the door.


	3. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick has a much needed talk with Finnick

     Nick sat on top of a crate on the roof of the bar. He leaned against the wall next to the door that lead up to it. He stared out into the early morning, the orange haze struck with etches of purple and blue. He looked down at his shirt, still splotched with big, bright red patches of fake blood, now dry. He sighed, and put his face in his paws. He heard the door swing open, then slam shut.

     “We missed the sunrise,” said Finnick. “That woulda been nice.”

     Finnick hopped up onto the crate and sat down next to Nick. He pulled out his deck of cards and shuffled them. He elbowed Nick. Nick somberly looked up.

     “You got one?” Finnick asked.

     Nick nodded. Finnick searched through the deck and then pulled out a nine of diamonds. Nick shook his head.

     “Well, at least you’re honest…”

     Finnick pocketed the deck of cards. He pulled out a flask and took a swig. There was an awkward silence. Finnick cleared his throat.

     “Alright, let’s do this,” said Finnick, “Let’s just get it done. So first, you say, ‘I’m quitting, Finnick, I’m out.’ Then I say…”

     “ ‘Do we have to go through this again?’ ” Nick answered.

     “Then you make a show of putting on your jacket and say ‘No I mean it this time Finnick, this time I’m really out.’ ”

     “Then you say ‘Let’s have a drink, and in the morning Nick you’ll have come to your senses…’ ”

     Nick stood up and began to pace the roof. Finnick pointed to his stomach.

     “You know, that’s a major design flaw in fake blood by the way,” he said.

     “ ‘...and we’ll be moving on…’ ” Nick continued.

     “Real blood--” Finnick said, “--turns brown after half an hour.”

     “Listen to me Finnick…”

     “This scotch costs more than your suit,” Finnick said with a smirk.

     “Listen to me.”

     “And the flask stopped a bullet from a black powder rifle at Appohaddocks--”

     “ _ Listen. _ ”

     Finnick sighed, then looked up at Nick. Nick stood at the edge of the roof, his glare as cold as steel.

     “I hate you,” Nick said. “I hate this life, I hate it, I hate that you won’t fucking listen to me for just one goddamn second. Just listen.”

     Finnick leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. He raised an expectant eyebrow.

     “Look,” Nick began, “I can’t wake up next to another stranger, who thinks they know me--or even wants to know me--cause I don’t even know...Finnick, who--listen, I’m thirty-four years old, and I--I’m useless, I’m crippled, I don’t--”

     Nick opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Finnick adjusted himself higher on the crate. He looked back up at Nick.

     “I’m listening…” Finnick said.

     “What I’m saying is,” Nick said, “I’ve only ever lived life through these roles that aren’t me--that are written for me by you.”

     “Tell me what you want,” Finnick said.

     “Why?” Nick asked. “So you can write me a role in a story where I get it? You’re not  _ listening _ to me! I want a real... _ thing,  _ I wanna do things where I don’t know how they’re gonna work out, I want...I want a…”

     “You want an unwritten life.”

     “I want an unwritten life,” Nick echoed.

     Finnick smirked. Nick realized that Finnick had just written his line for him. He let out an exasperated roar and threw his hat on the ground. He took a couple labored breaths. After a beat, he angrily picked up his hat and shoved it back on his head.

     “I’m going away,” he told Finnick, “I’m gonna go somewhere you or even Honey won’t be able to track me down, so don’t try. No more stories.”

     Nick marched past Finnick to the door leading down to the bar. He swung it open and then angrily slammed it shut. Finnick listened as he heard Nick descend the stairs.

     Finnick sighed. There was a brief moment of silence. Suddenly Finnick heard footsteps quickly coming back up towards the roof. The door gently opened to reveal Nick standing in the doorway, panting.

     “I love you,” he said.

     There was a brief silence. Nick awkwardly rubbed his neck and stared at the ground. Finnick smirked and raised another eyebrow.

     “Bye,” Nick murmured, and he slammed the door shut.

     Finnick chuckled, and he took another swig from his flask. He watched as the sun began to illuminate the city streets. Cars were slowly beginning to take over the roads. The city was waking. He saw Nick exit the bar and begin to walk down the sidewalk. He looked scared shitless. Finnick sighed, and he took out his deck of cards.

     He began to slowly shuffle.


	4. One Last Con

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The coast of Itaily, three months later

     Nick was suddenly awakened by the curtains being thrown open. He was momentarily blinded by the harsh light. He lifted his head from his hammock to see Finnick on the other side of the room. Nick groaned.

     “Rise and shine, Snaggletooth,” he chirped, walking over the empty bottles scattered across the floor.

     Nick shielded his eyes with a paw. He grumbled.

     “What are you doing here, Finnick?”

     “Put your face on, let’s go eat.”

* * *

 

     The brothers sat at a table outside a cafe, coffees placed in front of them. Finnick sat there, smiling at Nick. Nick glared back. A waitress dropped off some toast and bug-browns for Finnick, and some cereal for Nick. There was a long pause. Nick sighed.

     “How’d you find me, Finnick?”

     “Honey,” he said, passing Nick the sugar dispenser for his coffee.

     “How’d _she_ find me?”

     Finnick gave him an incredulous look. Nick tipped the sugar into his coffee, but nothing came out. He gave it a couple of shakes, but to no avail. Finnick gestured for it, and Nick handed it to him.

     “How’ve you been?” Finnick asked.

     “Great,” Nick said.

     “Perfect,” Finnick said. He gave the bottom of the sugar dispenser a couple quick raps against the table. “I’ve done a lot of thinking over the past three months. You don’t want out. You think you do, but you don’t.”

     Finnick dashed a bit of sugar into his coffee. He handed the dispenser back to Nick.

     “How do you know?” Nick asked.

     “ ‘Cause I know you, Nick,” said Finnick, “Probably even better than you do.”

     Nick tipped the sugar dispenser into his coffee. The top fell off, emptying the entire contents of it into his cup. Nick shut his eyes meditatively, and then placed his cup down in resignation. Finnick chuckled.

     “I’ll get you another one,” Finnick said. He called to a waitress to bring another cup. Nick rubbed his temples.

     “Finnick, I told you,” he said, “I’m done. I’m quits. How many times do you have to hear this?”

     “Look, let’s make a deal,” said Finnick. “I wanna show you something. Okay? I’m not asking for commitment or anything, I just want you to see something, and if you still wanna leave after that, that’s fine. You can fly, be free, spend the rest of your life drowning in liquor off the coast of Itaily in an abandoned lighthouse, fine by me. But I just want you to come with me one last time. Okay?”

     Nick took a sip of his new cup of coffee, black. He stifled a cough, and placed the cup back down on the table.

     “Why do I feel like you’re trying to drag me into another one of your stories again?”

     “I’m not, I promise,” Finnick said. “Will you come with me?”

     Nick rested his face in his palm.

     “Okay, fine,” he mumbled. “Fine. I don’t--yes, fine, I’ll do it.”

     “You’re a saint,” said Finnick, hopping down from his chair. He began to walk down the path towards the docks.

     “Where are we going?” Nick asked him.

     “New Herdsey,” Finnick said over his shoulder.

     “Jesus,” Nick said, still sitting in his chair. “Well lemme get my coat, first…”

* * *

 

     The trio stood outside an immense mansion. They were standing on a hill next to the long, winding, driveway through the trees that lead up to it. Honey offered Nick and Finnick a cigarette. Nick declined, and Finnick accepted. Honey took out a lighter, but Finnick raised a paw, revealing his own. Honey rolled her eyes and flicked hers closed. Nick stared up at the monstrous house above them.

     “I’m sorry, where are we?” Nick asked.

     “The biggest private residence in the Eastern seaboard,” Finnick replied, “Home to our final mark. Daddy was an oil tycoon, a Hearst type. Built a Xanadu to match, then died à la hunting rifle at a bimonthly outing to the shooting range. Mom followed into the hereafter two years ago after ten years fighting an illness that I can’t pronounce, leaving our sucker all alone in this ludicrous estate with an insane amount of very liquid assets.”

      “How much?” Nick asked.

      Honey picked up a stick and drew a number in the dirt. After a brief pause, she added several zeros to the end of it.

     “Jesus,” Nick said.

     “Look out,” Finnick said, moving behind a bush. Nick and Honey followed him.

     They watched through the leaves as a yellow Lamborghini tore its way up the road, carving around the tight corners with ridiculous speed, tires screeching. It flew past them and made its way towards the house. Once it passed, the trio emerged.

      “What the hell was that?” Nick said.

      “Our mark,” said Finnick.

     They walked to the other side of the hill to see the car come barreling up the driveway of the estate and crash full-speed into the large ornate fountain in the center. Dust and debris flew out in all directions. Nick ducked as a stone head of an ancient goddess flew over him. The trio cautiously raised their heads and stared through the smoke.

      A voice cussed as one of the doors to the car opened. Blasting rap music poured out of the vehicle for a moment, before promptly being cut off. A figure crawled from the wreckage and stood beside the car. The smoke cleared to reveal…

     ...A small, gray rabbit. She was wearing a black skirt with a dark green sweater. She wore a large, black hat to keep the sun out of her eyes. She took off her sunglasses and surveyed the crash. She angrily tossed her hands into the air, and then took off her hat. She stared sadly and the wrecked car.

     Nick gulped. He whirled around and started to walk back down the hill.

     “Honey, get the car,” he called over his shoulder.

     “Nick, c’mon,” Finnick whined.

     Nick turned to Finnick with an exasperated sigh. Honey walked past him down the street.

     “What am I doing here, Finnick? You know I have one rule, one _simple_ rule that you never bother to listen to--”

     “Stick with me, Nick, c’mon--”

     “No women! One rule! You _know_ we don’t do women, _I_ don’t do women, and it’s not a morality thing or--it’s, whatever it is--no, it doesn’t _matter_ what it is! That’s just our rule!”

     “Nick, she’s a _rabbit_.”

     “I don’t care if she’s a _caribou,_ okay? I’m not doing this! Jesus, Finnick, what the hell are we--”

     Honey pulled up in a maroon 1978 Cadillac. She hopped out and leaned against the roof. Nick looked at the car, then at Honey.

     “Is that a ‘78 Caddy?” he asked her. “Huh...interesting choice. So, no is what I’m saying,” he said, turning back to Finnick. “I’m quits anyway. I’ll be in Itaily. Drowning.”

     The front door of the mansion slammed, and the three looked up. The rabbit was now dragging a very large harp out onto the front patio. She grabbed a stool and positioned herself on it. She began to play.

     “Judy Hopps,” Finnick said. “Twenty-nine. Lived at home her whole life.”

     Honey handed Nick an old brass telescope. He extended it and aimed it at the harp. He realized she was playing a song by the Fur Fighters.

     “An eccentric shut-in rich bitch,” Nick said, still looking, “You’re not helping your case.”

     A tow truck drove past them up the hill. Finnick walked closer to Nick.

     “She’s bored,” said Finnick, “A seed in the snow. We’re gonna put her through a grand adventure, bring her to life.”

     Nick kept his eye glued on Judy as she played.

     “So this is the big plan?” Nick asked. “Lure me back into things with some beautiful intriguing elusive female, stir up some old memories with the prospect of redemption and rebirth?” Nick lowered the telescope to look at Finnick. “Seriously, Finnick. Amateur night.”

     The tow truck weaved back down the pathway, pulverized Lamborghini trailing behind. Finnick gave Nick a look. Nick sighed.

     “I’m not saying yes,” Nick said, “But what’s the con?"

* * *

 

     “...and so that’s how it ends,” Finnick concluded. “Mouseico, a burst of violence, and then a moment of truth on the beach. What do you think?”

     Nick took a sip of his drink. The hotel bar they were in was dimly lit. Nick strained his eyes to look at his brother’s flowchart, the same meandering lines and numbers as always. He looked back up at Finnick.

     “You’ve got something up your sleeve,” he said skeptically. “This is about me, right? Somehow.”

     “This might not be something you know,” said Finnick, “but they’ve _all_ been about you. Maybe that’s why none of ‘em’ve been perfect, I’ve never been able to give you what you really want.”

     “Well, I want out of all this,” Nick said with a sigh. “So by definition, this is not going to be giving me what I really want.”

     Finnick answered by producing the ace of spades from his sleeve. He gave Nick an expectant look. Nick rested his chin in his hands.

     “This’ll be the last one,” he said. “You’ll let me go.”

     “I will never approach you to do another con again,” said Finnick.

     Nick stared down at his brother’s flowchart. His eyes slowly followed the countless lines up to box #1.

_“Nick meets Judy”_


	5. Hitting the Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Box #1

     Nick sat atop the hill on the bright red bike, helmet and goggles resting on his head. He stared down at the highway below him. Judy would be on her way back from town, and this was the only highway that lead back to the estate. Nick looked over at Finnick, lounging in a lawn chair with sunglasses, observing the road below. Nick adjusted his helmet.

     “You know,” Nick said, “There are less painful ways to cut into a mark.”

     “Yakkity yakkity yak,” Finnick replied, flapping his fingers like the mouth of a puppet. He looked at his watch. “Score to beat is 7.8. Keep your head in the game, I heard the Pakistani judge is tough.”

     Honey shoved a lawn umbrella into the ground, and unfolded a seat for herself. She handed Finnick a Boarona from a cooler. Nick adjusted himself on the bike.

     “This is a banana seat, man!” he complained. He looked back at Honey, annoyed.

     Honey blinked at him innocently with incomprehension. Finnick laughed. Nick rolled his eyes at her.

     “Don’t give me that blank look, you know goddamn well what a banana seat is,” Nick grumbled.

     Honey cracked open a Boarona for herself and clinked bottles with Finnick. She unsheathed a fan and began to flap it lazily.

     “How far do you want me to take it?” Nick asked.

     “All the way to the road.”

     “No I mean--”

     “I’m kidding,” Finnick said with a snicker. “Don’t take it too far, we still need you alive for the rest of this thing.”

     Suddenly, Finnick’s ears perked up. He quickly produced a whistle from his pocket and blew it sharply. He ushered Nick to go. Nick slid his goggles over his eyes, lifted the kickstand, and launched himself over the peak of the hill.

     He barreled over the weeds and divets in the earth, making him painfully bounce on the seat of the bike. He felt his jaw opening and closing, causing a comical “huh-buh-buh-buh-buh” to escape his lips. In his peripheral vision, he saw the bright yellow Lamborghini speeding up the road. He veered a bit to the left, towards the oncoming car. Finnick had cued him a bit early. Nick began to ring the bell on the handlebar to add authenticity. The bike flew right down the last portion of the hill, hit the asphalt and slammed headlong into the side of the moving hood.

* * *

  _There’s actually a knack to this. You always want to avoid actually dying or breaking anything that won’t grow back, but you don’t wanna roll out of it and come up roses. If you’re trying to fast track into a mark’s sympathies, there’s nothing quite as efficient as having your first conversation be from a hospital bed that they put you in. I usually like to try for a dislocated shoulder._

* * *

     Nick landed on the pavement shoulder-first. He flattened himself as his now mangled bike landed in front of him. He played it up, wincing as he rolled over to face the car. He gingerly sat himself up, clutching his shoulder in obvious agony. There was a cloud of smoke where the car had skidded to a stop.

     Nick turned his gaze up towards the hill. Finnick and Honey were holding up scorecards. Finnick showed a 7.8. Honey flashed a 5.6.

     “Aw, c’mon,” Nick said under his breath. “Really?”

     Nick looked back over at the car. Some of the smoke had cleared. However, Judy still hadn’t gotten out of the car. Nick waited.

     Suddenly, the Lamborghini jolted forward. There was a pause. Then, the car lurched forward again, before coming to another sudden stop. Nick slowly stood up, still clutching his shoulder. He tried to look through the back window, but the tinting on it was too dark.

     The car jolted once, twice, thrice more. Nick slowly let go of his arm and took off his goggles. He took a curious step forward.

     “Uh...excuse me?” he called out. “Ma’am?”

     The car suddenly veered to the left and plummeted over the edge. Nick heard it fall straight into a ditch a couple feet below, carrying some branches with it. The horn blared.

     Nick slowly looked up to Finnick and Honey. They were now standing, cards at their sides, staring down at him and the empty space where the car used to be. Finnick’s cards fell to the ground. Honey rummaged at her feet, and held up a new pair of cards: 7.6

* * *

     Nick sat in a chair outside Judy’s hospital room with his arm in a sling. Finnick and Honey were adorned in stolen scrubs, Honey playing with a stethoscope.

     “Actually, Honey had it in her report,” Finnick said, “I guess I just missed it.”

     “You _missed_ it?”

     “This is actually kind of great, and I’ll tell you _why.”_

     “Jesus Christ…”

     “Dogstoevsky was _also_ an epileptic, you know?” Finnick said.

     “Yeah, I know,” answered Nick.

     “His seizures were preceded by an enlightened euphoria, a sort of opening of his spiritual eye. _I_ think the fact that she saw your face the instant before a seizure is a pretty goddamn good foot to get off on, right?” Finnick asked.

     Honey lit up a cigarette, ignoring the glares of the passing doctors.

* * *

_The next step is to figure out a way to insinuate yourself into their personal life._

     A paw touched Nick’s shoulder. He awoke with a start. He had fallen asleep in a chair next to Judy’s bed in her room, and she was now standing above him. She was still in her scrubs.

     “I think they took my car,” she whispered.

     There was a pause. Nick looked over at the door, and then back at Judy. She was still staring at him, with her hand still on his shoulder. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. There was an awkwardness in the air.

     “Could you drive me home?” Judy asked.

     Nick cleared his throat. “Uh...Yeah. Sure.”

     Judy let go of his shoulder and straightened up. She nodded quietly. There was a beat.

     “I’m, uh…” she said, pointing over her shoulder, “I’m just gonna...go find my...”

     Judy brought her hand down awkwardly. She turned around and walked into the alcove. Nick saw that her scrubs were open in the back. He shut his eyes and let out a sigh.

_Step two: engagement. Find a connection with your mark through conversation._

     Nick drove down the winding road in the ‘78 Cadillac that Honey had acquired, Judy sitting in the passenger seat next to him. If he could call it "sitting" at all. She was sprawled against the door of the car, her head resting against the window. She was playing with the controls on the door, watching the side door mirror turn inwards and outwards. Nick glanced at her for a moment, then looked back at the road. They had been completely silent for the last ten minutes. Finally, Nick spoke up.

     “Sorry about your Lamborghini, by the way,” he said.

     There was a beat. The mirror inched back inwards.

     “ ‘S okay…” Judy mumbled, her speech mildly impeded by her chin resting on the door.

     More silence. Nick cleared his throat.

     “Nice area,” said Nick. “Herdsey, I mean…”

     No response. Nick let out a quiet sigh. They continued down the road. Nick could see the house coming into view. He saw the clearing in the trees where Judy had crashed the car and the skid marks where he had gotten hit. He flew past them and drove the car up the rest of the winding driveway to the estate.

_Step three: place your hook. Get invited in for coffee, and tell the whole tale._

     Nick pulled up in front of the front door and unlocked the car.

     "Alright," he said, "I, uh...I hope you feel better. I guess I'll see you around?"

     Without making any eye contact, Judy quietly exited the car with a thank you, walked up to the door, and entered the house.

     Nick sat there for a moment in stunned silence.

     What was he supposed to do now? Does he give up? Does he come back in a couple days? He took his phone out to and began to dial Finnick. However, Nick heard the front door open, and he saw Judy come running back out of the house. Nick pocketed his phone and rolled down the window. She stepped up to the car and leaned in.

     “I think I...I realized that, uh...should--should I invite you in for coffee?”


	6. The Hook

     Nick sat across from Judy, coffee sitting in front of him. The cobblestone kitchen was the size of an apartment suite. Judy meditatively stirred her coffee while looking at Nick. It was time to plant the hook.

     “My brother and I are in antiques,” he began, “We took after our father, he had a shop in Zoo York. So, we stuck together, my brother Finnick and I, and we just took over the shop when dad died.”

     Judy let go of the spoon and rested her face in her hands, staring at Nick. Nick took a sip and continued.

     “Then we realized, one day, we saw the dealers who were finding and selling us these antiques from all over the world, all these exotic countries, and there was a...almost a scent they had, the air would--like before a rain, the ions would all line up, and…”

     Nick looked at Judy and realized that she wasn’t looking at him anymore. She was staring off into space with droopy eyelids, her paws starting to push through the fur on her cheeks. She looked up, noticing that Nick had paused. She sat up slightly and nodded to him.

     “...and uh..." he continued, "...you could just... _smell_ midnight trains to Bearis, and steamer ships, and...Cowcutta bazaars...we both made the decision that we both wanted that kind of life. And so, we’ve been travelling the world ever since, you know...hunting for treasure, and…”

      Judy looked as if she was about to fall asleep in her hands. Nick slowly put down his coffee.

     “I’m--I’m sorry, uh, are you...are you okay?” he asked her. “You seem a little…”

     “Hm?” Judy murmured. Suddenly, she perked up. “Oh. Yeah, sorry, I’m just...I’m kinda bad at this whole thing.”

     “What whole thing?”

     “Um...talking.”

     “Oh, okay, well...that’s--that’s fine. That’s alright.” Nick said. “Do you...do you want me to go?”

     “No!” said Judy, sitting up straight. “I...really wanna talk to you…”

     “Okay,” Nick said, “Good. I was afraid I was boring you.”

     “No, not at--no, you weren’t.”

     There was a brief silence. Nick took another sip of his coffee. Judy began to slowly drift away again. Nick tried to latch onto her.

     “So, uh…” he began, searching for something, god, _anything_ to get something out of her, “What do you do?”

     “Nothing,” Judy said. She sighed. “Maybe you _should_ go.”

     Nick slowly put his coffee back down. He raised his eyebrows and sighed. With a push of his chair, he stood up and began to collect his things.

     “Okay, well...it was, uh, nice meeting--”

     “I collect hobbies,” said Judy.

     Nick froze. He looked at Judy, confused. “You collect hobbies?” He asked.

     “I see someone doing something I like,” Judy explained, “and I get books and I learn how to do it.”

     “Hm,” said Nick. “Anything interesting?”

     “Not really,” said Judy.

* * *

     An understatement of egregious proportions. Judy could play the piano, the guitar, the fiddle, the banjo, the harp, and the accordion. Nick watched her assemble a miniature ship in a bottle. He drew his tail in as he sat against the wall and watched her do perfect kickflips on a skateboard. He watched her juggle. Ride a unicycle. Juggle _while_ riding a unicycle. He grasped tightly onto a paddle as he watched her play ping pong against a wall with increasing speed. He held the boombox while she break danced on a flattened piece of cardboard. Nick hid behind the shelter of the doorway as Judy karate-kicked through three layers of wood.

     Finally, they both sat at the kitchen table as Judy made the final fold in a paper crane. Nick swallowed.

     “Is that it?” he asked cautiously.

     “No,” said Judy. “I know a lot of stuff.”

     “You just learned this stuff here, all by yourself?” Nick asked.

     “Kinda sad, right?” she said.

     “No, not at all,” Nick said. “So you just thought, ‘Hey, I wanna learn how to do this and this,’ and you just did it?”

     “Yeah,” Judy said.

     “Wow,” said Nick, leaning back in his chair. “How do you plan to use all this stuff?”

     Judy sighed. “I dunno,” she said. “I’m not much of a planner. I just...do stuff.”

     Judy placed the crane on the table. She lowered her face closer to the table, placing her eyes inches away from the crane. After a brief moment, Nick followed suit, scooting his chair back an inch or so so he wasn’t so close. They sat there for a moment, staring at the miniature sculpture in wonder, waiting for it to show any remote sign of life. Suddenly, Judy jumped up and began to walk into the living room.

     “I wanna show you something,” she said to Nick through the doorway. “In here.”

     Nick walked into the lavish living room, yellow wallpaper dressed with different paintings and shelves. Judy opened a cabinet and pulled out what looked like...a fruit bowl. A large watermelon sat in the center of it. She placed it down on the coffee table, and she sat on the couch across from it. Nick sat down next to her.

      “It’s a watermelon,” Nick stated plainly.

     “Close,” Judy said. “It’s a camera. You can make a pinhole camera out of anything hollow and dark.”

     Upon further inspection, Nick realized that she was right. The watermelon was in fact a homemade camera. There was a tiny hole poked in one of the walls, and there was a small viewpoint carved into the top, bordered with black duct tape and a piece of glass. Nick inched closer to it.

     “That’s gotta warp the image, though,” said Nick, examining it in detail.

     “No, yeah, it does.” Judy said, “That’s what makes it--you can take a picture with any point-and-shoot camera and it can still turn out to be the flattest, dullest photograph you’ve ever seen. But with this, you can look at the most menial, everyday thing, and depending on how your pinhole camera eats the light, it makes the image warped and peculiar and imperfect. At that point, it’s no longer reproduction. It’s storytelling.”

      “It’s a lie that tells the truth,” Nick murmured to himself.

     “I dunno about _truth,_ ” Judy said. “A photograph is a secret about a secret. The more it tells you, the less you know.”

     A slow grin began to form on Nick’s face.

     “What changed between now and twenty minutes ago?” he asked her, “ ‘Cause, y’know, this is kinda like a conversation.”

     Judy looked up at him, and he watched an expression of  shock slowly washed over her face. She chuckled.

     “Holy shit,” she whispered. They shared a laugh.

* * *

 

     “Well, I should, uh...it’s late, so,” Nick said, walking with Judy to his car. “Y’know, I meet a lot of mammals in my job whom by obligation I’m forced to act interested in. It’s a good feeling to be genuinely interested in someone for once.”

     “You’re leaving?” Judy asked.

     “Yeah,” said Nick.

     “Are you coming back?”

     And there it was. Nick had successfully secured their mark. He stifled a smirk.

     “Well, uh, next time I’m in town,” he said, rubbing his nose. “We’re taking a steamer at noon tomorrow off the docks to, uh...Bearis or Fleece I think. Oh, that reminds me, I gotta get a hat. Well, anyways…”

     Nick stuck out his hand. Judy softly grabbed it. He gave it a gentle shake.

     “Thank you for the pinhole camera demonstration,” said Nick, “And for the good  conversation. It was a pleasure. Goodbye, Judy.”

     Nick released her hand and hopped into his car.

     “Goodbye, Nick,” Judy said.

     Nick gave her one last wave through the window, then drove off. Judy watched his car gently serpentine down the paved path and soar off into the distance between the trees.


	7. Overture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Step four: transport. Lure the mark to the target place, but make sure they act of their own accord."

     Nick looked down the road, antsy. Finnick stood on the deck of the boat, pawing through his notebook. Honey stood behind him with a knife and piece of wood in hand, whittling. There was still no sign of Judy, and the boat was to disembark in five minutes. Nick looked up at Finnick from the street below.

     “She isn’t coming, man,” he said nervously, “I need another day with her.”

     “You’ll have two weeks on the boat,” said Finnick.

     “I need another day to get her _on_ the boat, I don’t think she’s hooked,” Nick explained, “We’ve only had one session, and we mostly talked about...watermelons, and the optics of lensless photography.”

     “It isn’t the talking that hooked her,” said Finnick with a smirk.

     As soon as the words left his mouth, the sound of screeching tires echoed through the air, followed by a crash. Nick kept his eyes glued on Finnick.

     “That’s her isn’t it?” he asked. “Yeah, okay.”

     Nick turned to see the bright yellow Lamborghini wrapped around a pylon. Judy was trying to pull a comically large steamer trunk out of the back. It was a mystery how it was able to fit inside the car in the first place. Nick sauntered towards the wreckage.

     Judy yanked the trunk from the car, and it landed heavily on its side. She looked up and, upon seeing Nick, beamed.

     “Hey!” she piped.

     “Hi,” Nick said. “What--what’re you doing here?”

     Judy reached into her car and pulled out a stack of bills held together with a rubber band. She held it out to Nick.

     “This is for your bike,” she said. “And your arm.”

     Nick didn’t move. “I don’t want it, but uh...thank you anyways.”

     Judy’s ears drooped. She lowered her hand. “Oh,” she said.

     There was a brief moment of silence. Judy looked back up at Nick and took a deep breath.

     “Hey, uh, where’s this boat going?”

* * *

 

     Judy and Nicked strolled the deck of the ship, watching the waves brush past them. The coast had now disappeared, and they were surrounded by sea. Nick sighed.

     “Why did you decide to come?” Nick asked.

     “Well,” said Judy, “I’ve never been to Fleece...or _Furope_...or outside New Herdsey at all.”

     “It just seems like a big leap, don’t you think?” Nick asked her. “From where you were yesterday to being a world traveler?”

     “It looked like fun,” she said. “I wanted to do it.”

     “A new hobby,” Nick said with a smile.

     “Exactly,” she chuckled.

     Nick took Judy’s arm.

     “C’mon, I want you to meet someone,” he said.

* * *

 

     Judy and Nick approached a sharply dressed fennec and honey badger playing shuffleboard on the top deck of the ship. Nick grabbed their attention. They put their hooks down and came forward.

     “Judy, this is my brother, Finnick,” Nick said, guiding her towards him. The two shook hands.

     “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” said Finnick with a suave smile. “Nick’s told me a lot about you, you’re the epileptic rabbit photographer, right?”

     Judy gave Nick a confused look. Nick rolled his eyes in aggravation.

     “Sort of,” Judy replied.

     “This is my personal secretary and masseuse, Ginseng,” Finnick said, gesturing to Honey.

     “Oh, Ginseng,” said Judy, “Like the tea?”

     Nick saw Honey shoot a stealthy glare at Finnick. Finnick swallowed.

     “Heh. No,” Finnick said with a cough. “So, what are your plans in Fleece?”

     “I don’t plan,” Judy said.

     “Good for you,” Finnick said with a smile.

     With one shot, Honey managed to knock every one of Finnick’s pieces off the board. One flew off the edge of the deck and plopped into the roaring sea below them. Finnick looked up at Honey. She responded with a forced smile.

* * *

 

     Finnick watched over the rolling sea, leaning against the railing. Nick approached him from down the walkway.

     “You named Honey ‘Ginseng’?” he asked incredulously.

     “It was the first thing I had this morning,” Finnick said. “Besides, how was I to know that Judy knew types of teas? I thought she drank coffee.”

     “She knows a lot of things,” Nick said.

     They stood there a moment, looking out at the setting sun. Nick leaned in towards Finnick and lowered his voice.

     “Also…” he said, “Was that who I think I saw earlier this morning when the boat was being boarded?”

     Finnick sighed. “Yes, it was,” he said. “Did he see you?”

     “No,” said Nick. “Not yet.”

     “Good,” Finnick said.

     “Let’s try to keep it that way for the time being.”

* * *

 

     Judy shuffled the cards in front of her. Nick watched her from across the table, a flute of champagne in his paw. She was wearing a simple black dress with a scarf draped over her shoulders. Nick smiled.

     “You look nice, by the way,” he said.

     Judy scoffed. She quickly and expertly twirled a card up and then down through the deck. She was good.

     “What was your childhood like?” Nick asked.

    Judy snickered. “I make cameras out of watermelons,” she said.

     “Lonely?”

    “Lucky guess.”

     Judy began to let the cards melt through her hands. While she talked, they became a part of her, and she became a part of them.

     “When I was six,” she began, “I started getting allergies. You know, hayfever, rashes, all really bad. So my mom took me to the doctor, and he did that test where they use a needle to prick a grid on your back with all the different toxins, to see which ones you’re allergic to. The next day I came in, the doctor lifted up my shirt...and my back looked like a patch of oily, moldy, blackish green double puffed marshmallows.”

     Judy folded the deck with a loud ruffle.

     “I was allergic to _everything,_ ” she said. “So...they sealed the house with plastic and a special ventilation system, and I spent my entire childhood and adolescence indoors. Mostly alone. _Lonely._ ”

     Judy pulled the four queens out of the deck.

     “Wow,” Nick said.

     “It wasn’t until I was seventeen they discovered that what I was actually allergic to was the aluminum alloy in the hypodermic needle,” she continued. “At that point, I was gonna leave, but my mom got sick. So, I stayed. And, well...she stayed sick for a long time.”

     Nick stared at her pensively. He placed his flute of champagne on the table.

     “Do you feel...I don’t know...cheated?” he asked.

     “The trick to not feeling cheated,” Judy explained, “is learning how to cheat.” She fanned the cards out behind the four queens on the table.

     “So,” she began as she placed the four queens in the fan, “I decided this wasn’t a story about a miserable girl trapped in a house that smelled like medical supplies, wasting her life away on a person that she sometimes hated.” She began to deal the cards into four piles. “It was about a girl who could find infinite beauty in anything, any little thing. And do anything she decided to do. And love the person she was trapped with.”

     She gathered the four piles back into one deck. She drew four cards from the top of the deck and put them face up on the table: the four queens.

     “Now,” she continued, “Did doing that let me escape a wasted life, or did it just blind me so I _wouldn’t_ escape it? I don’t know. But, either way, I was the one telling my own story. So, no, I don’t feel cheated.”

     She finished by drawing the next four cards from the top: all four of the aces. Nick looked at her, dumbstruck.

     “Hm,” he said.

     “I need to stretch my legs,” she told him. “Wanna take a walk?”

* * *

     The moon bathed the deck in a beautiful pale light. The band was playing an old standard, and it flitted through the air over the sounds of the sea. Judy and Nick walked side by side along the bow.

     “I don’t suppose in all your hobby acquiring--” Nick said, “--you ever learned how to dance?”

     Judy chuckled. “I went through a phase where I was mildly obsessed with the Bullero,” she said.

     “Really?” Nick said. “Give me a minute.”

     Nick jogged to the stairs of the upper deck and climbed up to the band that was playing. Judy was left alone. The harsh orange light of a beacon on the very front of the ship washed over the deck periodically. Judy stared into the shadows of the ship. Suddenly, the beacon lit up, illuminating the figure of a large mammal waiting in the darkness, standing next to the stairs that lead to the lower deck. Judy froze in fear as the light faded. She heard footsteps approaching.

     “Madamoiselle…” a gruff voice called.

     “Monsieur…” answered Judy cautiously.

     “Ah,” it said, “Je n’ai pas voulus vous effrayer.”

     “Oui,” Judy said, “Vous l’avez fait.”

     “Je regrette,” the voice continued, “Mais le pont était foncé, et j’ai eu besoin vous approcher…”

     The beacon shined again, falling upon  an immense bull in a black cape. He took a long draw from a pipe in his hoof. He let the smoke billow from his nostrils, forming rings that disappeared into the air above him. He looked down at Judy.

     “It has been such a time since I have last encountered the Brothers Wilde,” he said ominously.

     Judy swallowed. “You’re in antiques?” she asked.

     The bull let out an amused ‘hmph’. He smiled at Judy.

     “Antiques,” he echoed. “I wonder, my dear, if you know the true nature of the foxes you travel with?”

     There was a flash of silver. Judy jumped. The bull raised a metal comb. He passed it through his fur. He chuckled as he put it back in his pocket.

     “A little fear might suit you, I think,” the bull said with a grin.

     The bull turned towards the stairs and began to make his way back to the lower deck.

     “Bon soir, mon petit lapin,” he said over his shoulder.

     Just as he finished his descent, Nick began to walk down from the upper deck. He approached Judy with an oblivious smile.

     “They aren’t a Spanish band,” he said, “but they’ll try their best.”

     He handed Judy a rose. She slowly felt herself relaxing as she took the rose from him, placed it in her mouth, and began to dance with him.

* * *

      Nick crawled out of bed with a yawn. He walked over to a desk chair where he had draped his jacket from last night. He pulled the rose from the breast pocket. He twirled it around in his fingers, examining the teeth marks that had been left on the stem. He remembered how Judy had caught him off guard by dipping him with ease and expertise, and how good she looked in his bowler hat that she playfully stole from him. With a chuckle, Nick placed the rose back in the pocket.

     He stopped, however, went he felt a strange lump in his coat. He reached in and pulled something out.

     In his paw was the pile of cash, held together by a rubber band.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation of the conversation between the mysterious bull and Judy:
> 
> "Ah," he said, "I did not mean to frighten you."
> 
> "Yes," Judy said, "You did."
> 
> "My apologies," the voice continued, "But the deck was dark, and I had to approach..."


	8. Getting Stuck with the Horns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A different kind of confrontation

     Judy was sitting with Honey on the top deck, working over an empty beer can. She watched Honey pull out a pocket knife and poke a small hole through one side of it. Judy nodded enthusiastically. She then explained to Honey how the opening in the top could be used as a viewport, and that if she wanted, she could make the whole thing bigger by taking out the top and taping it to another one with a cut out bottom.

     “I’m sorry to interrupt your mentor session,” Nick called from below, “but I believe that breakfast is ready.”

     Judy hopped up and waved goodbye to Honey as she descended the stairs. Honey waved back, and then continued to fiddle with the pinhole camera. Judy met Nick at the bottom of the stairs and took his arm.

     “How’d you find her?” Judy asked.

     “Find who?”

     “Ginseng.”

     “Who? Oh! Well, _she_ kinda found _us,_ ” Nick explained.

     Judy raised her eyebrow.

     “A few years back,” Nick said, “When we hit the top of our art dealing game, she just...appeared.”

     “Really?” Judy said.

     This was actually the truth. Nick thought back to a couple years ago when he was making coffee in the kitchen one morning, and he suddenly heard the front door slam. When he looked up, he saw Honey sitting there at the table; she had a cigarette in her hand and her suitcase at her feet. Nick remembered awkwardly pouring her a cup without a word.

     “She seems to have stuck with us,” Nick said. “We figure that once she gets bored, she’ll disappear with the same lack of noise.”

     There was a pause as Judy absorbed the story. After a moment, she looked up at Nick.

     “I like her,” she said.

     “Good,” said Nick.

     They turned the corner to see Finnick and Honey sitting at a table with glasses of juice and coffee in front of them.

     Sitting across from them was the bull.

     Judy felt Nick’s muscles tense. She looked at the other members of the table, and realized that the only mammal who seemed comfortable with the situation was the bull himself. She looked at Nick apprehensively.

     “What’s _he_ doing here?” Nick asked Finnick.

     “I _invited_ him,” Finnick said through clenched teeth, “Sit down. This ship’s too small to dance around each other for a week, we might as well have it out now.”

     Nick began to lean forward, a snarl appearing on his face. Judy instinctively grasped his arm tighter.

     “ _Nicholas_ ,” Finnick said sternly. “ _Sit._ ”

     Nick grumbled to himself as he forcefully took a seat next to his brother. Judy sat down between him and the bull. She examined the faces around the table. She felt a tension in the air between everyone involved.

     “Judy,” Finnick said abruptly, “Do you happen to know our friend?”

     “...Only as the creepy French guy…” Judy said quietly.

     The bull let out a gentle laugh. He smiled at Judy. “Book-learned,” he said, “You know your _languages_ but not your _accents,_ my dear. I am Belkgian. Maxime Bogo, at your service.”

     “Also known in certain professional circles as the Curator,” Nick commented coldly.

     “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” said Judy. “What do you do?”

     “Well, I am a _curator_ ,” Bogo said, “at the National Museum in Dogue. And yourself?”

     “I’m an epileptic rabbit photographer,” Judy said, staring into her coffee.

     “Good for you,” Bogo said with a chuckle. “And _you_ boys!” He asked, “What do _you_ do?”

     “We have a legitimate antique reselling business,” Finnick growled.

     “ _Baissez le rideau, mes copains, la farce est jouée_ ,” Bogo said.

     “We’ve gone _straight,_ Bogo,” said Finnick.

     “ _Pardon_ ,” Bogo insisted, “but you do not ascend to the grand heights of the Brothers Wilde only to toss it all and sell terra cotta to blue-furred weekend antiquers.”

     “We did,” said Finnick, “Eat your waffles.”

     “But the mademoiselle appears...confused,” Bogo said, looking at Judy. “Perhaps she is unawares?”

     “Eat your waffles, horn-head,” Nick snarled.

     “Unaware that the Brothers Wilde are in fact…” Bogo continued, “...the two most highly respected _art smugglers_ of the western world?”

     Nick held his face in his hands. Finnick angrily crushed a grape he was holding. He grabbed a napkin and wiped his paws.

     “ _Were,”_ Finnick clarified. “We’ve been on the straight for three years, Bogo.”

     “Well,” Bogo said smugly, “If that is the case, then who am I to quarrel with.”

     Judy suddenly sat up and snapped her fingers. The rest of the table looked up at her.

     “Your name’s _Bogo?_ ” she asked.

     “Maxime Bogo, Esquire,” Bogo repeated.

     “Sorry, no, cause I noticed--” said Judy, “--but I couldn’t place it: this ship is named _the Gazelle,_ which was the ship in _Bogo’s_ novel _L’homme de Confiance,_ or ‘ _The Confidence Man_.’ Sorry, I just...that’s odd.”

     The table had frozen. Everyone but Judy gave a slow, uncomfortable look to Finnick. Finnick tried to casually lean back in his chair.

     “Huh,” he said painfully. “I guess I should read it at some point.”

     Honey hurled an apple over her shoulder and into the sea. Everyone looked at her. She looked at Finnick and raised a dainty paw to cover her mouth, a sign of innocent apology. She mouthed ‘whoopsies’.

* * *

     Finnick stood on the top deck, playing with his deck of cards. He muddled over the pieces of the con in his brain. This had been the most intricate story he had written, and Judy had already gotten the best of him two times now. He let out a sigh.

     “I know you like to throw those clever little details in,” Nick said from behind him, “but you’ve gotta watch that shit with her, Finnick.”

     Finnick turned around to see Nick walking towards him. He carried his jacket over his shoulder, and had an exasperated look on his face. Finnick rubbed his eyes.

     “She had a lot of time alone in that house, and she used it,” Nick continued. “She did the best Double Dutch Queens trick I’ve ever seen in my life last night at dinner.”

     “Double Dutch Queens uses gaffed cards, Nick,” Finnick said.

     “Yeah, she had them in her purse and cut them in while I was folding my napkin.”

     “Jesus Christ,” Finnick said, pocketing his deck in his coat.

     “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying,” said Nick. “She’s different, Finnick, she knows things. Sometimes it feels like she knows _everything._ Doesn’t that worry you _at all?_ ”

     “No,” Finnick said. “But something about her is worrying _you_ plenty.”

     Nick sighed and ran a paw through the fur on the top of his head. He walked over to Finnick and leaned against the railing. They both stared out into the sea.

     “She’s starting to feel like one of your _characters,_ ” Nick said.

     Finnick chuckled. “The day I con you is the day I die, Nick.”

     “I know,” Nick said. He looked at the roaring ocean for a while longer.

     “By the way,” Nick said, turning to Finnick, “How did you get the Belkgian? On _our_ budget?”

     “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” Finnick asked?

     “I didn’t expect him to actually be Belkgian,” Nick said.

     “...I’m not sure he is,” Finnick said with a smirk. “Alright, I’m gonna go get my ass beat some more at shuffleboard.”

     Finnick walked down the deck towards the stairs. Suddenly, he stopped for a moment. He turned to Nick.

     “I’ve always protected you, right?” he asked. “The only real danger in this whole play is that you actually fall in love with her.”

     Nick swallowed. He looked down at the sea below him.

     “Hey. Look at me.”

     Nick slowly looked back over at Finnick. He was looking right into Nick’s eyes.

     “Do _not_ fall in love with her, Nick,” he said.

     Finnick turned and descended the stairs, leaving Nick alone with his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More translations:
> 
> The phrase Bogo says during the reveal translates to "Drop the curtain, my friends, the farce is over."


	9. Rising Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judy gets a wild idea

     “ _Smugglers_ ,” Judy whispered with wonder. “It’s like an adventure story.”

     Nick and Judy were laying on the deck near the stern. They were stargazing. They watched the dome of the sky slowly rotate above them. The boat was scheduled to arrive in Fleece tomorrow morning, and Nick had helped Judy pack. They were now in their pajamas, waiting for the sun to rise.

     “Whose idea was it to go straight?” Judy asked.

     “Mine,” Nick said. “Finnick always loved the life. But then, he was almost killed on a run to Jackalta, two rhinos built like tanks worked him beyond reason.”

     “Oh my god.”

     “And that’s when I called it,” Nick said, “No more smuggling.”

     “Scary,” Judy said.

     “Yeah,” said Nick. “Y’know, sometimes I think he’d love to die on the job. Cornered at midnight on a run to Jackalta. That’s his dream, to tell his story so well that it fulfills itself. It would somehow make it finally real for him.”

     “That’s kinda the thing we all want, right?” Judy asked.

     Nick rolled his head towards her. Her eyes were drowning in the infinite above them. He sighed.

     “Trying to get something real by telling yourself stories is a trap,” he said. “Trust me on that one.”

     “...Well, it worked for me,” Judy said, rolling her head towards his.

     “But were you really freed by it?” Nick asked.

     “We talked about this, remember?”

     “No, you said you didn’t feel _cheated,_ ” Nick clarified. “You can feel cheated but still live as free as a bird. But you can feel like you’re getting every little thing that you deserve, and still be completely chained to the ground. It depends on your perspective.” said Nick. “So,” he asked again, “did you feel trapped?”

     Judy looked back up at the sky, her face scrunched in thought. After a brief moment, she looked back at Nick.

     “No,” she said.

     “Why not?”

     “Well, you just said it yourself,” said Judy. “It depends on your perspective.”

* * *

 

     The trio watched as a group of porters struggled with Judy’s steamer trunk down the rickety staircase that lead down to the dock. Nick felt good to be back on land. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic on that tiny cruiser. Nick looked behind him to see Judy examining all the different crates among the cargo, running her paws over the exotic lettering. He turned back to the ship to see Bogo approaching.

     “Best of luck with your antiquing, boys,” Bogo said with a gesture of his pipe. “ _Au revoir, Pakistanaise,_ ” he threw at Honey.

     Bogo approached Judy at the crates. “Mademoiselle,” he called.

     Judy turned to him. Bogo bent down to her level and leaned in towards her ear.

     “ _Mon restes d’offre,_ ” he said with a wink. He turned and marched down the rest of the dock. Nick slowly approached Judy with a suspicious look in his eye. Finnick followed a short distance behind him.

     “Now, my French is a little rusty,” Nick said, “but if I’m not mistaken, I believe he just told you ‘my offer remains.’ Is there something we should know about?”

     Judy sighed. “Yes,” she said. “He came out of nowhere last night. This was before you came to help me pack.”

     “Oh Lord,” Nick groaned, “What has he got?”

     “An 8th century prayer book,” Judy said. “From his museum in Dogue, stashed in the castle.”

     “A book of _ours,_ ” Finnick said.

     “Yeah,” Judy said. “Medieval art bores the crap out of me, I don’t know it that well. Anyways, that’s what he does, he makes pieces in his collection magically disappear, then he sells them off via a trusted middle mammal.”

      “That’s what he does,” said Nick.

      “Wonder who his fence is?” Finnick asked.

     “Probably his Spanish guy, right?” Nick said. “Did he say who’s buying?” he asked Judy.

     “A Barngentinian. Bargentine? Barngentini--Banrgen--a mammal from Barngentinia.”

     “Sure,” Finnick said.

     “He said that he’d sell it to a middle mammal for one million, US,” Judy said. “The  Barngenti--a _guy_ will pay two point five.”

     “Not bad,” Nick said.

     “Is he legit?” Judy asked them.

     “The Curator?” Finnick asked. “That’s a relative term to use. He’s telling the truth, I’ll tell you that much.”

     “I’m sorry that you had to deal with that guy,” Nick said.

     Nick looked over Judy to see the porters struggling with her trunk. They were attempting to get it to fit in a rather small cab. Nick slowly raised a finger to it.

     “Where’s that cab going?” Nick asked her.

     “The train station,” Judy said.

     “Where’s the train going?”

     “Dogue,” Judy said, trying to stifle her smile.

     Nick gave her a hard look and slowly shook his head at her. Judy began to nod hers back, a cheery grin appearing on her face.

     “No. _No._ ”

     “Yes.”

     “ _No!_ ”

     “Let’s _do it!_ ” Judy said, bouncing. “Let’s, just--I wanna try this. _Let’s be smugglers!_ I think it’d be fun, we should _totally_ do this.”

     “I said _no._ ” Nick said.

     “Why not?” Judy whined.

     “Well first off,” Nick said, “we don’t have a million dollars on us.”

     “I do, I’ve got--yeah, that’s whatever,” Judy said with a shrug. “I mean a _real_ reason.”

     “Well,” said Nick, “This is _real._ It’s _dangerous_ , Judy,  it could go very badly.”

     “I think a little real danger might suit me,” Judy said. “I’m gonna do it.”

     Nick sighed and held the bridge of his nose.

     “So,” Judy said casually, “If you wanna...join my smugglers gang _,_ y’know. I’ll _consider_ it.”

     Judy began to walk towards the cab. Nick gave a look to Finnick, but he merely received a shrug. Nick turned back to Judy.

     “You know, this isn’t an adventure story!” he shouted.

     “What are you talking about?!” Judy squealed excitedly. “It _totally_ _is!!_ ”


	10. Judy the Smuggler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We're a band of smugglers, hey,  
> La la la la la,  
> We smuggle at night and drink all day,  
> Smugglers, ho ho ho,"

     Nick paced back and forth in Finnick’s cabin car. Finnick lay on his bed, his hat propped over his face. They wobbled with the steady clanking of the wheels of the train as they collectively zipped through the countryside. Finnick stretched and raised his paws behind his head.

     “Take it easy,” Finnick told Nick, “She’s having fun, that’s the point of this.”

     “No no no, I don’t think you get it,” Nick said. “She’s making a flag for our ‘smugglers gang,’ man. She made me learn a secret smugglers handshake. It’s unhealthy.”

     Finnick giggled from underneath his hat. Nick continued to pace.

     “This afternoon, when she was writing in the observation car?” Nick continued, “A letter? A journal? No. Take a look at this.”

     Nick pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and thrust it in Finnick’s face. Finnick lifted his hat. In front of him, Nick held a piece of paper covered with “Judy the Smuggler” written in hundreds of different fonts and designs. Finnick smirked.

     “I think the one with the cloud lettering is pretty good, I dunno about you,” Finnick chuckled.

     “This isn’t funny, man!” Nick said, “She’s been singing the smuggler song since Cathens.”

     Finnick raised an eyebrow.

     “The  _ smuggler song _ ?” he asked.

     “You know, the one from whatsit, the Looney Tunes thing,” Nick said, “that smuggler song, the ‘We’re a band of smugglers hey, la la la la la...we smuggle by night and drink by day, smugglers ho ho ho…’ there, see? This isn’t...there isn’t a smugglers song, is there?” he asked off of Finnick’s look. “She made up a smuggler song. With paw motions.”

     “The whole point of this was to sweep her off her feet,” Finnick said. “Let her enjoy it.”

     “...While it  _ lasts _ …” said Nick.

     Finnick shrugged. “Nothing lasts,” he said.

* * *

 

     Nick sat in his cabin car, playing solitaire on his bed. He had managed to put himself in another corner. He sighed as he picked up all the cards and began to shuffle them.

     Suddenly, he heard the pounding of footsteps approaching. He looked up just in time to see Judy and Honey go flying past his window in the hall. There was a brief pause, then Nick saw an attendant run by, shouting in Fleecian. 

     Nick sat in his bed, frozen. Suddenly, his door flew open, and Judy and Honey jumped into his cabin. They slammed the door shut and hid underneath the window. They held fingers up to their lips as the attendant went running past in the opposite direction. Once he had passed, they gave Nick a mischievous smile and produced two burlap sacks. Nick gave them a quizzical look.

     “Smuggling,” Judy whispered excitedly, “From the snack car.”

     Judy reached into her bag and tossed Nick a bag of Bug Bites. It hit his nose before he could reach up and catch it. Judy collapsed into a fit of laughter.

     Nick glared at Honey. She responded with a wild-eyed grin.

* * *

     Nick slapped a stack of Furos down on the counter in front of the attendant. The attendant took them and put them in the cash register. Nick gave a look to Honey, who gave him a count on her fingers.

     “ _ Fourteen  _ gins, are you kidding me?” Nick asked in disbelief. He slapped another couple Furos onto the counter. The attendant took them. 

     Honey tapped the counter. “Campari,” she ordered.

     “I’m not paying for that,” Nick said coldly.

     The attendant poured two glasses, and Nick reluctantly slapped down three more Furos. He looked at Honey.

     “She made up the smuggler song,” he said.

     Honey nodded. They took a drink. Nick wiped his mouth.

     “I thought it was a Looney Tunes thing,” he mumbled.

* * *

 

     Judy lay on her bed, emptying her seventh travel bottle of gin. She finished it with a sigh, then let it roll across the floor to Nick, sitting against the opposite wall. Judy rolled onto her back.

     “...Gin is fuckin  _ fruity, _ man…” Judy slurred. She reached behind her and grabbed her eighth bottle. “Have you tak’n this train b’fore?”

     “Yeah,” Nick said.

     “...So this is all like, fuckin, ‘whatever’ to you, then,” Judy said.

     “I usually play cards…” Nick said, “...drink in the snack car with Honey.”

     Judy’s ears perked up. She lifted her head and rolled towards Nick.

     “With the...with  _ who? _ ” she asked.

     Shit.

     “Uh, Ms. Ginseng,” Nick said with a gulp. “Honey is her, uh...her smuggler nickname.”

     “Isn’t that kinda...I d’know,  _ blatant _ ?” Judy asked. “ ‘Cuz y’know...she’s a…”

     “Yeah, I know,” Nick said. “I think if it were offensive, she would have told us by now.”

     “Do  _ I  _ get a smuggler nickname…” Judy murmured.

     Nick quickly took the stack of bills with the rubber band from his pocket and slipped it into Judy’s suitcase.

     “No,” he said.

     Judy suddenly rolled towards him and propped herself up on her elbows. She stared at Nick long and hard, her face contorted in deep thought. She raised a wavering finger.

     “I think you’re constipated,” she stated. “In your fuckin  _ soul _ .”

     Nick took a full minute to try to form a response to this statement. Judy stared at him all the while, the same half-conscious look on her face. Finally, Nick took a deep breath.

     “ _ What? _ ” he asked.

     “You’ve got a load of grumpy, petrified poop--” Judy continued, “--shoved up your soul’s  _ ass. _ I’m just calling you out on it.”

     Judy took a swig from her bottle. Suddenly, she sat up on her knees, a defensive look on her face.

     “Yeah, I’m pretending I’m a smuggler,” she said, “so you know what? I’m a fuckin smuggler. If that’s your thing, fuckin, tell it like you  _ own  _ it, man. When you got a fuckin--what’s the word, a  _ spotlight  _ or what in front of your feet, fuckin  _ jump into it  _ and dance the  _ shit  _ out of it, dude. Stop thinking so goddamn much, enjoy the fuckin ride, compadre.  _ Shit _ .”

     She flopped back down onto the bed. Nick stared at her in bewilderment. He opened his mouth to say something, but--

     There was a flash of lightning. Thunder shook the car. Judy suddenly stiffened in her bed.

     “Whoa…” she said.

     “Look, Judy, I’m not--”

     “Shhhhh shh shh…” Judy said, putting a finger up in Nick’s direction. She got up on her knees and pressed her face against the window. “I love thunderstorms,” she mumbled.

     There was another crack and roar. Judy jolted. She fell back onto the mattress, holding her face. She grasped her sheets as another lightning strike boomed across the countryside. Nick slowly began to shrink into the corner as Judy began to moan softly.

     The thunderclaps increased with Judy in volume. Nick watched in horror as she writhed back and forth on the bed, holding her pillow into her stomach. Her feet twitched and her back arched as her moans swam through the air of the cabin. Suddenly, she sat up with a look of shock on her face.

     “Oh my god...I’m so  _ horny _ ,” she said in self-discovery.

     “ _ G’nite.”  _ Nick quickly said as he closed the door from the hallway.

* * *

     Finnick lit a cigarette in the hallway. Honey sauntered up to him, cigarette displayed. Finnick began to offer his lighter, but Honey put a paw up and revealed her own. Finnick gave a sly snicker. She lit up, then handed him a piece of folded up paper. Finnick gave her a quizzical look, then opened it.

     It was a telegram. He looked back up at Honey.

     “This came through just now?” he asked. 

     She nodded. Finnick held his lighter up to the page. He read aloud.

     “ ‘My dear Finnick,’ ” he began, “STOP. ‘Word on the wire is the Bros W are bound for Dogue’ STOP. ‘Am heading there myself’ STOP, ‘Would love to see my boys’ STOP. ‘Affectionately KV.’ Koslov.”

     Finnick lowered the telegram and looked at Honey. She bit her lip. Finnick cleared his throat.

     “Wire him back for me,” he said. “ ‘Dear KV’ STOP, ‘Unless you’ve lately felt an excess of eyes left in your head kindly stay the fuck away from me and my brother’ STOP, ‘Regards,’ etcetera.”

     Finnick raised the lighter to the edge of the paper. They both watched as it caught fire. The flames spread over the top of the page and slowly towards Finnick’s paw. Finnick began to awkwardly blow on it. Within a few seconds, both Finnick and Honey were fanning with their paws and blowing at the paper, trying to extinguish it before the whole train caught fire. Finnick quickly dropped the flaming telegram on the ground and began to stomp on it. An attendant from across the hall looked up, and Finnick waved them away with a forced smile as Honey stamped her feet on the remaining embers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably the closest thing to smut I will ever force myself to write


	11. Requiem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some animals don't realize that's it's occasionally alright to make a cry for help.

     The four were standing on a bridge, the sprawling castle of Dogue in the distance. Judy squinted grimly at the three in front of her. She rubbed her temples meditatively. Honey opened a tourist map.

     “You know, the last time I was in Dogue, I was in love,” Finnick said.

     Nick gave him a look. Judy turned her head towards him, blocking the sun out of her eyes with her paw.

     “Really?” she mumbled. “What was she like?”

     “A giraffe,” Finnick said plainly. “You can imagine how that worked out.”

     Honey rolled her eyes. She took off her sunglasses and sympathetically tossed them to Judy. She wearily raised a paw to catch them, but they flew over her shoulder and landed in the river with a splash. Honey reached into her pocket and pulled out a duplicate pair. She put them on.

     “Alright, this is how this is gonna work,” Finnick began. “Nick and I will secure lodging. Ms. Ginseng will scout the castle museum. Judy, you will go to the bank and pick up the money. That wire should’ve been cleared if you sent it while we were in Cathens.”

     “Cash?” Judy asked.

     Finnick laughed. “Only movie thugs and Bears deal in suitcases of cash. Draw a certified check.”

     Judy nodded with a squint.

     “Alright,” Finnick said, “Let’s do this, shall we?”

* * *

 

     The four climbed the last couple steps on a circular staircase to find themselves in front of  a large wooden door of an apartment. Finnick pulled out a rumpled piece of paper and checked the address. With a nod, he shoved it back in his pocket and gave a sharp couple raps on the door. A heightened voice answered from within.

     “ _ Ce que le baiser?! _ ” it screamed, “Who the hell?! What do you want?!”

     “Candy-gram,” Finnick said with a smirk, “It’s  _ us  _ Bogo.”

     A shotgun shell blasted a hole in the door right above Finnick’s ear. Nick yanked Judy to the ground and shielded her head. Finnick and Honey dropped to the floor as well. Another blast echoed through the hall, sending splintering wood soaring over their heads.

     “Hey, whoa, Bogo!” Nick yelled, “It’s Nick and Finnick, man, relax!”

     “It’s Finnick, Bogo, it’s me and Nick!” Finnick said, “Jesus Christ!”

     The door burst open, revealing Bogo in a stained bathrobe. He held a shotgun in one hand and a bottle of Yak Daniel’s in the other.

     “Ah. Good morning,” he said cheerily. “Come in, please. I have been drinking.”

     Bogo waddled back into his apartment. The four smugglers slowly stood up.

     “Come, sit, relax,” Bogo called from the other room.

     The four walked in. His apartment was completely covered in marble, with huge windows viewing over the rest of the city. On each wall were rows of wooden cabinets with mirrors installed in the front. It gave the room an infinite depth to it. Bogo sat on an antique Victorian couch, and he had placed his bottle on the table in front of him. Next to the bottle were pages upon pages of blueprints. The quartet placed themselves in front of it. Bogo pulled a page from the pile, and he navigated a paw to a distinct location.

     “The book is  _ here _ ,” he said. “A you can see it is off the Basilica, under these offices of administration. It’s kept in an otherwise inaccessible catacomb.”

      “Administrative offices,” Finnick repeated. “So how the hell do you steal the book? That place has gotta be crawling with staff 24/7.”

     “The book is already stolen,” Bogo answered matter-of-factly. “The stealing is in the bureaucracy, the filing, the red tape. As far as the museum is concerned, the book does not exist. I am the curator. I walk in, pinch the copy girl’s baboosh, put the book in a briefcase, then walk out. Tomorrow, say, at two.”

     “Today,” Finnick insisted.

     “Today is not a good day,” Bogo said.

     “Fine,” Finnick said, “ _ Tomorrow _ . Now, about the Barngentinian.”

      Bogo sat in a daze, unresponsive. Suddenly, he looked up.

     “Oh, the Barngentine,” Bogo said. “I...I get his file.”

     Bogo stood up and stumbled into another room. Finnick hopped off the couch and motioned for Honey to follow.

     “We’ll let you two take care of this,” he said, “Hon--uh, Ginseng and I have gotta work on some stuff out back at the hotel. Meet back up with us at 3:00.”

     With that, Finnick and Honey left. Bogo came back into the room holding a manilla folder. He slapped it down on the table.

     “This is all that you need to know,” he said. “Where the drop off point is, how to hand it off, everything. Do you...have more questions?”

     “Yeah,” Judy said. “What’s that painting over there?”

     Bogo and Nick turned their heads to where Judy was looking. A painting of a single rock in a blue river sat at the foot of a bed.

     “What do you want to know about it?” he asked.

     “The way you’ve placed it--” Judy noted, “--it’s the first thing you see in the morning and the last thing you see at night. What's special about it to you?”

     Bogo let out a slow sigh. He leaned back in the couch.

     “It is my daughter’s,” he said. “She loved to paint. She did ever since she could hold a brush. All very abstract, mind you.”

     “How old is she?” Judy asked.

     “Twenty-five,” Bogo said, “In a manner of speaking. However, she is, euh...she is dead.”

     Judy’s ears drooped. Nick winced and rubbed his neck.

     “Nineteen years ago today,” Bogo said, “She was six. She went out one afternoon to play, and then vanished. The next morning, we found her in a well on a neighboring property. I tried to reach her, but I slipped and broke my leg on the way down. I was in the well with her for half an hour. She died two minutes before the rescue team arrived. The whole time we waited, I said everything I could to comfort her, to help her feel safe, but I couldn’t stop her from trembling. I couldn’t stop her from  _ crying _ . If you’re a parent, you--my whole being had been focused to make her feel  _ safe _ , but her last moments were filled with terror. Despite everything I tried, I could not help her.”

     Bogo looked back at the painting sitting at the foot of his bed. He smirked before opening the Yak Daniel’s and taking a swig.

     “It was the first painting that I ‘acquired’,” Bogo said. “Now you know why today is not a good day.”

* * *

 

     Nick and Judy walked past the bullet-pierced door. As Nick began down the stairs, Bogo appeared in the doorway.

     “ _ Mademoiselle, _ ” he called.

     Judy turned. Bogo approached her and kneeled in front of her. 

     “It is you I do the business with, yes?” he asked.

     Judy gave him a blank stare. Suddenly, her face lit up.

     “Oh!” she said. “Yes, of course.”

     Judy reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope. Inside was a certified check. She handed it to Bogo, and he put it in the pocket of his bathrobe. The two shook hands, closing the deal.

     For a moment, Bogo altered his grip, and held Judy’s hand as he would a child. Judy noticed, and Bogo averted his eyes when she looked up. He quickly stood up and turned away from her.

     “ _ Au revoir _ ,” He said, walking back into his apartment.

* * *

     Nick and Judy walked down the streets of Dogue, headed back to their hotel. People were out and about, and the two of them were letting themselves get lost in the crowd. Judy sighed.

     “Gin is slow death, man,” she groaned.

      Nick snickered. “That’s why you gotta take it a little slower next time,” he said.

     They walked for a little longer in silence. Nick glanced down at Judy to notice that she was staring at him. He raised an eyebrow.

     “What?”

     “You’re not constipated,” she said, “You’re  _ scared _ .”

     Nick looked away from her. He stared into the air in front of them. He felt a paw on his arm.

     “What are you afraid of?” Judy asked him.

     Nick swallowed. He watched his feet as he walked, unresponsive.

     They continued to walk. Nick watched as animals turned to blurs brushing past his vision. Sound seemed to sort of dull, and he felt his conscience begin to wander. After a few minutes, he realized he was holding Judy’s hand.

     He didn’t remember when it had happened or who had initiated it. For right now though, it didn’t matter. He felt safe. He was angry at himself for letting someone love him for who he wasn’t, but something kept him from letting go. Finally he had met someone who wasn’t like anyone else. Judy wasn’t  _ predictable _ . She had thrown he and his brother for a loop since day one, and she had caused them to think on their feet on multiple occasions. What was even scarier was that she could read into Nick like no other mark had been able to before. She was the closest thing that he had ever gotten to what he wanted: an unwritten life.

     Nick looked up at the hotel in front of them. Suddenly, he saw something on the balcony. He quickly let go of Judy’s paw and shoved his hands into his pockets. He stared straight ahead, not looking at her.

     Judy looked up at him, ears falling. She turned her gaze up to the balcony.

     Standing there was Finnick. He was wearing shades and carried a suit jacket over his shoulder. He was glaring down at them. Judy watched as he turned and walked back inside.


	12. Reprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick is forced to face the past

     Nick sat alone in the hotel bar. He let the pencil slowly soar over the page in front of him, creating a beautiful portrait from memory. He meticulously added every strand of fur with precision and accuracy, a sort of mechanical habit taking over. After completing the face, he put his pencil down and stretched his fingers. He took a sip from a Boarona.

     Suddenly, a sound made his throat close up. He listened as a slow, repeating ‘clink’ entered the room. He heard it approach him and sit next to him. He could smell the ash that covered this mammal from head to toe. He could feel their presence towering over his. Nick slowly put his drink on the counter, staring into space.

     “Hello, Koslov,” he strained.

     The old polar bear next to him smiled. He was dressed in an ancient suit that smelt of smoke and fish. He wore an eyepatch with a diamond in the middle over his left eye. He let out a gravelly chuckle.

     “Nicholas,” he said with a toothy grin. “How long has it been? You’ve grown since I last saw you.”

     “If I call Finnick down, he’ll kill you,” Nick softly said.

     “Well,” Koslov said with a smile, “Then please don’t call Finnick down. That would ruin our evening, don’t you think?”

     Nick swallowed, still not looking. He felt his fists slowly balling up.

     “Look at you, Nicholas,” Koslov said, “You’re terrified. C’mon now, look at me, take a look. I’m a sickly old Polar Bear with no depth perception. You don’t have to be scared of me.”

     Koslov took out a golden lighter and began to repeatedly open and close it, the familiar ‘clink’ echoing through the room.

     “It’s been a funny thing, watching you boys take what I taught you and eclipse me,” he said. “I’m so proud to be a footnote in the lives of the Brothers Wilde. But the worst part is, you _hate_ me.”

     Nick felt something tearing at his throat. His eyes began to blur with tears.

     “The curse of all bad fathers--” Koslov continued. “--that my presence on this earth after I die will not live on the lips of admiring men, but will sink into the murky backwaters of my children’s psyches.”

     “Is this profundity?” Nick asked with a shaky voice, “Cause if so, you can skip it.”

     Koslov let out a laugh. “Piss and vinegar!” he said. “When I first took you boys in, showed you the ropes, haunting St. Cheet’s, all of that,  piss and vinegar. Something inside me still craves that youthful joy. Even today.”

     Koslov slowly laid a paw on Nick’s thigh. Nick felt a cold chill go up his spine and the fur stood on the back of his neck. He couldn’t move. Memories flashed in his head, horrible memories, memories of feeling trapped, suffocated, agony lacing through his bones. Nick grasped onto his pencil under the table, priming it as a weapon.

     “Don’t touch me,” he mumbled with a broken voice.

     “You won’t believe me when I say it,” Koslov said, “but I loved you boys very much.”

     “You’re going to take your hand away--” Nick said with a quiet growl, “--or I’m going to break your arm. There is no in between.”

     Koslov laughed as he lifted his immense paw from Nick’s leg.

     “But love, you know,” Koslov continued. “Folks like us, you can always blink and realize it’s a fiction...it’s like being at the edge of a cliff. If you look down in doubt, you’ll fall.”

     Koslov suddenly adjusted his chair closer to Nick. He began to lean in towards him.

     “Someday,” he whispered, “Finnick is going to fall. It may be glorious, but he is going to fall _hard._ And he won’t be there to protect you or tell you what to do. So when he’s gone, Nick…”

     Nick felt a much firmer paw slide up his thigh.

     “...Remember _me_.”

     Nick squeezed his pencil hard, and began to slowly rear his elbow back--

     Suddenly, someone roughly pulled him out of his chair. He whirled around to see Finnick behind him, a fire in his eyes. He stepped in front of Nick, eyes locked on Koslov. Koslov smiled.

     “Oh,” he said. “Hello, Finnick. Nice of you to join us.”

     Finnick picked up Nick’s bottle and smashed it on the counter. He drove the shattered edge into Koslov’s paw. Koslov shouted in agony as he stood from the counter. Waiters quickly jumped in and grabbed Finnick, keeping him from tackling the wounded mammal. Nick looked down at himself to see his pencil raised and ready to strike. All he could do was watch as the struggle in front of him ensue.

* * *

 

     A janitor sauntered by, sweeping up the broken glass. Nick sat at the bar, clinging to the portrait he drew. Finnick sat next to him, bruised from the fight. He stared at Nick, his brow furrowed.

     “I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he whispered.

     Nick wiped the silent tears from his face. He sniffled.

     “You can’t always be there,” he said.

     Finnick swallowed. “You’re right,” he said, “I guess I can’t.”

     Nick stared at the portrait of Judy he drew. Her head was a little big, and her ears ran off the page. Her shoulders weren’t done, either. He wished he had found a violet pen or pencil with which to color her eyes. A tear fell onto her cheek. Nick hissed out a cuss, and he gently took a napkin to it.

     “Don’t worry, it’ll dry,” Finnick said. “You always were a great artist.”

     Nick mumbled a thank you, then flipped the sheet over. The con flowchart stared him back in the face. He looked to number fourteen: _The Curator’s Tale_.

     “That was quite a tonal shift,” Nick said. “Number fourteen? The tale?”

     “Yeah, I’m a big fan of tonal shifts,” Finnick said. “I didn’t write it though.”

     Nick raised his head.

     “You mean--” Nick said, “--he made it up on the spot?”

     Finnick sighed and propped an elbow on the counter. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

     Nick absorbed this. He flipped the page back over and looked at Judy. In the corner, he saw a speck of blood where Koslov’s hand had been near.

     And the tears came like a freight train. Nick’s shoulders violently shook with every sob he emitted. He pressed his paws into his face and could feel his claws digging into his forehead. Koslov was around him, all around him, in the air, in his clothes, in his lungs. He was being suffocated. He felt Finnick hug his shoulders.

     “Easy, easy, I got you,” he heard Finnick say from a far away place. “He’s gone, okay, he comes back and I’m gonna kill him, the son of a bitch, okay? You’re here now, in the present, you don’t have to go back to what happened. That’s all over. He ever lays a finger on you, he’s fucking dead. I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

     Nick tried to breath as Finnick told him something about going outside to get some air, and he felt himself get up from the stool and get lead out the door.


	13. It's A Con

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our smugglers seek revenge

     Finnick ducked and waited. There was a pregnant silence. He eyed Honey, who was hiding behind a statue in the hall, plugging her ears. Finnick looked back up at the bullet holes in the door, paper crudely taped over them. Judy and Nick waited at the bottom of the stairwell.

     “Bogo?” Finnick called.

     “We are a little early,” Nick shouted from below.

     Finnick knocked once more, then ducked again. Silence.

     Nick and Judy climbed the stairs. They looked up to see Finnick examining the door. He bust a paw through one of the holes and unlocked the door from the inside. It swung open.

     The apartment was completely barren. The paintings, the couch, the table: all gone. It had been completely ransacked. Bogo was nowhere to be seen. The four slowly paced the room as the revelation sank in. Nick stopped by a row of cabinets in the wall.

     “Well,” Nick said, “at least he had the decency to skip out on us, not do something tacky like fake his own death.”

     Nick nonchalantly opened a cabinet. Bogo was stuffed inside.

     “ _You are a BIT early--_ ”

     Nick quickly closed the door. When Judy looked over, he leaned against it casually.

     “I don’t get it, though,” Finnick said. “If he was hightailing it he could have waited eight hours ‘til we traded the million for the book, and had some traveling money. Oh well, back to antiquing.”

     “Yup,” Nick said, “Nothing gained, nothing lost.”

     A horrified look came over Judy’s face.

     “...Ohhhhhhhhhh…”

     The trio slowly turned towards Judy. There was a silence.

     “... _Ohhhhhhhhh?_ ” Finnick asked.

     Judy grimaced. “...ohhhhhhhhhh…” she said, ears drooping.

* * *

 

     Finnick slammed the table, sending juice splashing everywhere. Judy jumped. Nick handed her a napkin. They were all sitting outside a cafe, going over the bank receipts.

     “The check was cashed yesterday afternoon,” Finnick said, reading the receipt. “He probably has it deposited in a Swiss account by now. I’m sorry, Judy.”

     “What a waste,” Judy said sadly.

     Nick put his arm around her. She held her face in her hands.

     “That poor mammal,” Judy groaned, “That poor Barngentinian mammal. He’ll never see that book again, it’ll just rot underground in the catacombs.”

     Judy plopped her head against Nick’s chest. He sighed.

     “I’m sorry,” said Nick. “I shouldn’t have left you alone with him, it’s my fault.”

     There was a moment of sullen silence. Suddenly, Judy slowly sat up, an ambitious look in her eye.

     “Wait,” she said.

     “Oh god,” said Nick. “Judy, no. I know what you’re thinking, and--”

     “We could _steal_ it.”

      “See, there it is. _No!_ ” Nick said. “Can’t you see what happened here? There _is_ no book. We’ve been swindled, and--”

     “But maybe there _is!_ ” Judy said. “Maybe it’s real, we don’t know!”

     “It’s not real,” Nick insisted, “It’s a con.”

     Judy whipped around to face him. “It’s my money,” she said, “I’m going to find out for sure. He gave us all the information we need, he gave us the blueprints to the museum and everything!”

     Nick held the bridge of his nose. "This isn't an adventure story, Carrots."

     "C'mon," Judy said, "Help me storm the castle. Let's do this!"

     Nick gave Finnick a desperate look. Finnick sighed.

     “We’d need to clear the administrative offices,” he said. “Some sort of disruption.”

     Honey grinned, a wild glint appearing in her eye.

* * *

      Honey lay on the bed with Judy, a knife in one hand and a block of nitroglycerin in the other. She carefully sliced off a small amount and hooked it up to a petri dish. Judy stuck a finger towards one of the wires. Honey delicately grabbed it and moved it away. Finnick leaned back in a desk chair.

     “There’s a smoke detector in these empty rooms in the East tower,” he explained. “So, we plant, and we set off a tiny, tiny, _bohot chota, BOHOT CHOTA,_ ” Finnick directed at Honey, “tiny charge.”

     Honey held up a ballpoint pen and clicked it. A small puff of smoke shot out from the tiny slice of dynamite in front of her. She wiggled her fingers theatrically as it billowed up to the ceiling.

     “Fire drill ensues,” Finnick said, “offices empty, and you’ll have exactly four and a half minutes to get through the access hatch, into the catacombs, get the book and get out before the fire department arrives.”

     “The abort code is 'cornhole',” Nick said. “For some reason,” he added off of Judy’s look.

     Finnick handed Judy and Nick the blueprints of the building as Honey placed the charge in an unassuming backpack.

     “You two go over the entry and escape path one last time before you hit the sack,” said Finnick, “Ginseng and I have got a few more things to look over in my room.”

     And with that, the two left.

     Judy walked over to the desk where two bags sat, holding the excess dynamite in her paw.

     “Is this Ginseng’s?” she asked.

     Nick nodded. Judy turned back to the two bags in front of her.

    “Okay, charge went in the hand bag, so this goes in the _backpack_ ,” she said, placing the slab in a large black backpack.

     “Are you ready for this?” Nick asked, sitting below the foot of the bed. Judy joined him.

     “I don’t know,” she said. “You know how I feel right now?”

     “ _Horny?_ ”

     Judy rolled her eyes. “No,” she said with a scoff. Judy paused for a moment as her face fell. “I’m scared," she said. "I know I’ve been talking big this whole time, but...you're right. This isn’t a story. This is real. Freaky scary.”

     Nick chuckled to himself. He nodded at her. “Freaky scary,” he repeated.

     Judy quickly pushed her lips against his. She jumped back almost immediately. There was a long silence as they both stared at each other. Nick’s face was somber. He took a deep breath.

     Slowly, Nick inched closer to her. He gently took her face and held it in his paws. He slowly brought her in towards himself and kissed her long and soft. They began to quietly melt into each other.

     Suddenly, a noise escaped from Judy’s throat. They both pulled away, equally as surprised as the other. Judy smiled bashfully, and Nick gave a lighthearted smirk in response. Nick guided Judy back into him. A few moments later, Judy made another noise, more expressive than the last. Nick pulled back, a little scared. Judy laughed and pulled him back in. Nick found himself trying to keep his balance as the rabbit passionately engulfed him, but before he knew it, he had winded up on the floor with his lips completely locked on Judy’s.


	14. The Heist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stealing an 8th century prayer book has never been so difficult.

     Nick, Judy, and Finnick stood in a remote alcove about half a mile away from the museum. Nick paced the length of the room as Judy fiddled with a plastic ziploc bag. Finnick had binoculars raised up to his eyes, pointed up at the eastern tower.

     He watched as Honey entered the room. It was an empty storage room, half of it still under construction. She looked up at the ceiling and located the smoke detector. She crouched down and placed the bag on the ground.

     “Charge is placed,” Finnick said. He turned to Judy. “You know where you’re going?”

     Judy nervously nodded. She folded the plastic bag and tucked it into her jacket. Nick continued to pace.

     Honey walked in and gave a thumbs-up. The three of them looked at her, surprised.

     “How did you--?” Nick trailed off. He stopped and shook his head. “Nevermind.”

     Finnick lightly tapped his binoculars on the railing. “Okay,” he said, “Let’s do this.”

     “Okay,” Nick said. He looked at Judy and bit his lip.

     Judy met his eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay,” Judy said.

     They shared a silent moment. Eventually, Judy turned and confidently marched out. Nick watched her exit the alcove and begin walking down the street. When he turned around, he saw Honey giving him a knowing look. He frowned at her.

     Finnick brought his binoculars back up and followed Judy down the street. Nick resumed pacing.

     “For the record, I’m still against this,” Nick said. “Why send her in alone?”

     “Because going in alone is a very important thing to do,” said Finnick. “She’s walking into a zero security tourism office during a fire drill and taking a five hundred dollar manuscript replica from a utility crawlspace. Worst case scenario, a file clerk asks her if she’s lost. Which isn’t even gonna happen.”

     Finnick saw Judy hit her mark by the gate to the courtyard. She turned back towards them.

     “She’s in position,” Finnick said to Honey.

     Honey turned to Nick and mimed zipping her lips with a wink. She then took the binoculars from Finnick. She positioned herself on the railing and centered her focus on the target. She produced the ballpoint pen.

     ... _from the hand bag at her side_.

     Nick saw, and his tail stiffened. He raised a finger.

     “Uh-”

     Honey, locked in on the black backpack sitting beneath the smoke alarm, clicked the pen.

**_KABOOM_ **

     The tower exploded in an immense fireball. Dust and pieces of rubble rained down into the courtyard of the castle. Shrieks and panic erupted from the crowds. Security began to quickly usher people away as fragments of tile and stone drizzled upon them.

     Nick, Finnick and Honey stared at the tower, agape. Honey slowly lowered the binoculars, her eyes about to pop out of her head.

     “...Fuck me…”

     English words number two and three.

     Nick quickly snatched the binoculars from Honey. He began to scan the crowd. Suddenly, he spotted Judy amongst the panicked tourists, still standing at her mark. She was staring back at them with a conflicted look on her face. She looked back at the castle before her.

     “No,” Nick mumbled, “Don’t do it, Judy, don’t you fucking do it--”

      “They’re locking down the castle,” Finnick rasped, “She won’t get in.”

     Judy turned around and headed towards the gate.

     Nick threw down the binoculars and broke into a sprint. He broke past clumps of mammals, screaming at them to move. He ran into the street, almost getting hit by a car. He spotted Judy sliding through the gate as he approached.

     “Judy!” he yelled. “Don’t--abort! _Cornhole_ ! _CORNHOLE!!_ ”

     He pushed past the bumbling crowd and threw himself at the iron bars of the gate, much too late. He watched Judy sneak through the courtyard and run around the side of the building. Nick felt himself get pulled back by a security member. Sound faded, and he felt himself drifting as Judy disappeared from his sight.

* * *

     Water rained down from the emergency sprinklers in the halls. Judy adjusted her derby hat tighter onto her head. She carefully sidestepped along the giant fax machines and computers, making sure not to slip on the wet tile floors.

     “I’m in Dogue,” she muttered to herself. “I blew a building up, just so I could steal a book from a castle in Dogue.”

     She took hold of a large printer and began to push it aside. With a couple strong shoves, she revealed a small, iron door behind it.

     She unlatched the door and looked at the earthy crawlspace inside. She got down on all fours and pulled herself through. She stood up and looked around.

     She was standing in a large, stone alcove, barred windows filtering light onto the ground. It cast a brilliant mosaic of light over an ancient leathered book that sat upon an old marble podium. She carefully picked it up and held it in her paws before her.

     She took out the ziploc bag and dropped the book inside. She went to put it in her jacket pocket, but realized that the book was a bit too large.

     Suddenly, Judy heard the sound of heavy footsteps thundering towards her. There were angry shouts and commands quickly approaching. She quickly slid the small bolt on the iron door shut. She felt it wriggle. She desperately looked around for an exit.

     Above her, she spotted a small air duct that lead into the next room.

* * *

      Nick, Finnick, and Honey stood on the bridge behind the yellow police tape. They watched as helicopters circled the castle. Tanks began to roam the streets around the area, police cars escorting them. News crews had set up around the perimeter, broadcasting the disaster to the rest of the world. Sitting in front of them was the worst case scenario.

     Suddenly , Nick jumped up and turned to Honey and Finnick.

     “Wait,” he said. “Wait, we’re fine. She’s fine. If the soldiers find her wandering the halls, they’ll just assume she’s a clerk and shoo her out. As long as she doesn’t do anything suspicious, she’s fine.”

* * *

     The soldiers stared up at the air duct above them as it shook and rattled. They followed the loud bangs and grunts making their way across the ceiling. The general crossed his arms and sighed as he watched imprints of paws and knees pound their way into the bottom. He cleared his throat loudly.

     The banging and shaking suddenly stopped.

     Immediately, the air duct broke and swung downwards. Judy slid out head first and landed with a crash. She quickly jumped up, bag in teeth, and karate kicked a soldier in the face. He flew back and hit the ground with a thud. 11 rifles from all around her raised and cocked.

     And that was how Judy was caught. In a karate pose with a ziploc bag in her teeth, beneath a broken air duct she had just fallen out of with the army of Dogue aiming their guns at her head. She looked as the general slowly approached her. He stopped in front of her and raised an eyebrow. Judy opened her mouth to speak. The book landed at her feet.

* * *

      Nick, Finnick and Honey watched from the bridge as soldiers marched past them. The helicopters and tanks had disappeared, but news crews had rushed in to get a closer shot of the carnage. All three of them rested their faces in their paws.

     Suddenly, a line of police cars pulled out from the courtyard of the castle and drove up towards the bridge, sirens blaring. Finnick groaned.

     “What?” Nick asked.

     “It’s the chief of police,” Finnick said. “Keep your heads down.”

     Finnick and Honey quickly threw on their sunglasses and looked the other way. Nick lowered his hat over his eyes as the cars drove past. In the last car, he saw the army general in the passenger seat. In the back sat Judy, sandwiched between two armed soldiers. As they drove past, Judy pointed out the window to Nick and said something. The car skidded to a stop.

     “Shit.”

     “Is that her?” Finnick asked. “Don’t tell me that’s her.”

     “Yep. It’s her,” Nick said. “She just pointed at us.”

     “Fuck. _Fuck_ . We’re _fucked_.”

     “What do we do Finnick, tell me what to do.”

    “Shut up, _shut up_ \--”

     The doors popped open. The general and Judy stepped out of the car and shook hands. The soldiers got out of the car, turned to Judy, and saluted.

    “Bylo mi ctí, madam,” the general began, “uzřít, i když jen na okamžik, tak silnou a krásnou květinu, jako jste vy.”

    “Děkuji, pane,” Judy said. “Nezapomenu na vaši laskavost.”

     The general kissed her hand, saluted her, then got back in the car. The soldiers broke their stance and returned to the back seat. Judy watched as the car drove away.

     She turned to the trio and sauntered towards them, a smug smile on her face.

     The others goggled back at her. Judy unbuttoned her jacket and pulled out the plastic bag, the book inside. The three stared at it, speechless. Judy squealed as she began to happily stamp her feet, brandishing the book in front of her. Finnick and Nick slowly looked at each other.

* * *

     Nick and Finnick sat in the hotel bar, staring off into space. Nick slowly took a sip from his glass. Finnick rubbed his eyes.

     “I have, at different times in my life, quite literally sold ice to a polar bear and sand to a camel,” Finnick said. “And by god, I have _no idea_ what she possibly could have said to that rhinoceros to sweet talk her way out of that castle.”

     “I could ask her,” Nick said.

     “How obtuse,” said Finnick. “Let her sleep. The train doesn’t leave until eight.”

     Nick held his wine glass away from his face, lost in thought. He let his mind spin.

     “That was real, man,” Nick muttered.

     Finnick snorted. “Yeah,” he said, “It was.”

     Nick brought his glass up towards his lips. “ _Freaky scary,_ ” he mumbled to himself before taking another sip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations for the conversation
> 
> (Note: unlike French, I do not know Czech, so in reality what you read in the chapter was VERY inaccurate compared to what I was trying to say. Anyways, here's what they were supposed to be talking about:)
> 
> General: "It was a privilege, madam, to behold even for a short while such a strong, beautiful flower."
> 
> Judy: "Thank you, sir. I will not forget your kindness."


	15. The End (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grand Finale

     The city of Dogue sprawled in front of Nick. He slowly walked along the path in the park, watching mammals talk. The sounds of the world provided a relaxing soundtrack for him; it soothed his anxiety. Sometimes, that’s just what Nick liked to do. Listen. It was nice to watch instead of act every now and then.

     A beautiful smell entered Nick’s nose. Up ahead, a fruit cart was sitting at the side of the path. A vendor sat on a stool next to it reading a newspaper. Upon the cart sat apples, oranges, pears, strawberries...a decent selection. Right at the corner of the cart lay a basket of blueberries.

     Nick got a crazy idea.

     He felt his palms tensing as he casually walked towards the cart, making sure to keep an expression of nonchalance on his face. As he walked past, he quickly palmed one of the blueberries off the top of the pile. The vendor didn’t notice.

     Nick smiled to himself. He walked a couple more feet then turned around to look back at the cart. He went to throw the blueberry into his mouth…

     ...But he met eyes with a young pig. She looked to be about seven or eight years old. She was staring him down suspiciously.

     Nick’s face slowly fell. He brought his hand down and slowly shook his head. The pig pointed at him.

    _“Hej!”_ she shouted, _“Zloděj! Zloděj!”_

     Nick broke into a sprint as the vendor, yelling, chased after him. As he raced over different hills and benches, Nick found himself laughing.

* * *

     Nick walked out of the police station. Finnick stood at the door with his arms crossed. He lowered his sunglasses.

     “A _blueberry?_ ” he asked.

     “Yeah,” Nick said, “But it was part of an epiphany.”

     “I can’t have you in trouble right now,” Finnick said. “Tomorrow we’re going to Mouseico, remember?”

* * *

      Nick and Judy dived into Nick’s cabin car, burlap sacks over their shoulders. They quickly shut the door and hid below the window. They listened as the attendant’s footsteps raced past them. They fell into a pile giggling children, rolling in their treasure. Their hands found each other and they kissed.

     Nick awoke hours later, clinging to Judy in his bed. He watched the sun rise through her fur, causing it to sparkle and shimmer. He took a deep breath and let himself fade into Judy some more.

* * *

 

     Finnick and Nick stood on the top deck of _the Gazelle,_ watching as the coast approached. Finnick sighed.

     “Mouseico,” he said.

     Nick swallowed, hard. He felt his grip get tighter on the railing and he closed his eyes.

     “I can trust you in this, right?” Finnick asked.  “You won’t bail out on me?”

     “No,” Nick said, “No, I won’t.”

     “Promise?”

      “...Promise.”

* * *

 

     The four sat around a table on the porch of a small bungalow placed on the beach. The palm trees swayed above them. Judy and Nick held paws under the table. Finnick took a drag on a cigarette as he unfolded a map and placed it in front of them.

      “Okay, here’s how this is gonna work,” Finnick said. “We’re rendez-vousing with the Barngentina guys here, on an isolated beach just south of the hotel, Hotel Rampico. A simple handoff. Judy and Ginseng, you two will stay with the car, Nick and I will do the handing.”

     Judy squeezed Nick’s paw under the table. “You guys seem a little tense,” she said.

     “Well,” Finnick said, “I’m not thrilled to have this set in Mouseico. There could be legitimate reasons, but Mouseico is--and I don’t want to simplistically vilify an entire country, but Mouseico is a horrible place. So, we’ll be careful.”

     “Are you sure you don’t want my help?” Judy asked.

     “We think it’s safer if you stick with Ginseng,” Finnick said. “Besides, you’ve already helped plenty.”

     Judy sighed. “Alright,” she said.

     “I’m gonna review this guy’s file,” Finnick said. “Make sure we didn’t miss anything. In the meantime, I don’t know...enjoy the sun. Play in the sand. We got six hours.”

     Finnick stood up and walked into the bungalow. Nick slowly stood up and stretched.

      “I gotta move my legs,” Nick said to Judy. “Wanna come with me?”

     Judy nodded and stood up. They held paws and began to walk down the beach. Judy looked back towards the hotel behind the bungalow.

     “That’s an odd hotel, isn’t it?” she asked. “It’s so...I dunno, _red_.”

     “Finnick checked you in, right?” Nick asked.

     “Yeah.”

     “Okay, good.”

     Eight shots rang out from behind them. Judy whirled around.

     “Don’t worry,” Nick said, “It’s probably just Ginseng. She’s doing target practice, probably.”

     Nick was right. Honey was in fact holding an automatic pistol. She was aimed it at a crudely painted circle on a palm tree. She began to reload. Judy looked back up at Nick.

      “Is this going to be more dangerous than I think, tomorrow?” she asked.

     “Yeah,” said Nick. “You should stay in your room at the hotel tonight, I’ll stay with Finnick at the beach house. You’ll need sleep.”

     Another eight shots cracked through the air, shortly followed by the splintering of wood and a crash.

     Judy put her hand around Nick’s arm and leaned into him as they walked. Nick felt his chest tighten as he squeezed her paw. She squeezed back.

     “I’m really happy right now,” Judy sighed. “Are you?”

     Nick swallowed. “Right now I am,” he said.

     Judy kissed him. Before he could react,  she pulled away and smiled at him, giving another squeeze on his paw. Judy giggled and went skipping down the beach. Nick rubbed the back of his neck. His heart began to pound and he struggled to breathe. He opened his mouth to speak.

     “J--Judy...” he called.

     It was too late. She didn’t hear. The sound of the sea had and the breeze had drowned him out. He could no longer hear her, either. He watched her helplessly as she continued to happily hop and skip away from him.

* * *

 

     Finnick packed his suitcase. Nick stared out into the dark ocean. Finnick threw in a couple white shirts that were previously scattered on the floor.

     “The last box in our last con,” Finnick said. “Let them begin the beguine. How’s it feel?”

     Nick hadn’t known for twenty years how it felt. He now found himself with his answer. He slowly swirled his drink.

     “She’s something special, Finnick,” he said.

     Finnick threw in a tie, half listening. “Uh huh,” he mumbled.

     Nick looked down and studied the bubbles as they rose to the surface. He tried to speak.

     “Can--Can I…can I just have a little more time?” He asked. “Just a few days. I want to keep her, like this, I don’t want this to end. Don’t make me do this.”

     There was a painful silence. Nick looked over his shoulder. Finnick had stopped packing. He glowered at Nick with a cold edge in his face.

     “Be _angry_ at me, you son of a bitch,” he demanded. “Don’t be _pathetic_.”

     Nick looked at the floor.

     “ _Make you_?” Finnick continued. “Jesus Christ. Nick, I told you not to fall for her--”

     “I’m not gonna do this,” Nick said firmly, turning to face him.

     There was a tense pause. Finnick slowly walked towards Nick, staring him straight in the eyes. He stopped right in front of him. Nick stood his ground as Finnick  looked into the window of his soul. After a moment, Finnick gave a sharp exhale through his nose.

     “I don’t believe you,” he said.

* * *

     Judy heard a brisk knock on her door. She got off of her bed, undid the chain lock, and opened it to see Nick waiting at her stoop. He was breathing heavily.

     “Hey,” she said.

     “I know what I’ve gotta do,” Nick said, “I’ve gotta talk to you. Are you wearing shoes?”

     “Yeah,” Judy said, “What’s up?”

     Nick grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the room. He began to lead her down the path towards the bungalow. Judy broke away and stopped, staring at him.

     “Nick,” she said, “What is it? What’s going on?”

     Nick stared at her with a pained look on his face. Suddenly, he shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He opened his eyes and looked up at Judy.

     “My brother and I are con men,” he said. “All things considered, we might be the most respected con team in the world, but that’s not the point. Everything since you hitting me with your Lamborghini--everything up until right now, right here, it was all fake. It’s all a con.”

     Judy’s ears slowly drooped. She blinked.

     “Wh--what?”

     “We’ve been trying to trick you out of your money,” he said. “The book is fake, it’s, it’s a replica. That check you gave to Bogo went to us instead, he’s an actor that we paid. We were gonna blow you off later tonight with the shootout, the finale, the--we have actors playing the Barngentinian guy’s men, the deal was gonna go bad and they would open fire on us. Finnick and I would pretend to get shot using fake blood packets, squibs. Ginseng would’ve woken you up just in time for you to see us get shot, then she’d drive you away and send you off with some spending money. Her name isn’t even Ginseng, I have no idea _what_ it is, we just call her Honey because she’s a--”

     “ _Nick,_ ” Judy interrupted.

     Nick stopped and stared at Judy. She held a paw to her forehead.

     “Why...why are you telling me all this?”

     Nick felt his heart stop. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He held his paws over his face and groaned. Finally, he took a deep breath.

     “Because...I love you, Judy,” he said. “And, I--I wanna get you out of this. I’m gonna do what I have to do to get you out of this, away from this complete-- _disaster_ for good.”

     All Judy could do was stare. She absorbed all of the information that had just been thrown at her. Nick folded his ears back.

     “I know that that was a lot that I just spilled out onto you,” he said, “but I had to tell you. I couldn’t keep lying to you about this. Now we’re gonna get you out of this, okay?”

     Judy looked up at Nick hesitantly.

     “...Okay."

* * *

 

     Nick and Judy stormed towards the bungalow. They held hands as the breeze roared past them, the palm trees violently swaying.

     “Finnick’s gone into town to prep the Barngentina actors,” Nick said. “Your money’s inside.”

     “Money?” said Judy, “I don’t want the money, let’s just leave.”

     Nick stopped in his tracks. He looked at Judy and pondered this for a second. Suddenly, he squeezed Judy’s paw tighter and began to march towards the beach house.

     “ _C’mon,_ ” he said.

     Nick and Judy climbed up the porch, walked to the door, and burst into the room. Nick ran into some glass bottles on the floor. He cussed as he felt around him in the dark. Nick’s paw found a lamp. He reached under the shade and flicked the switch. Nothing happened. He flicked the switch again. Nothing. He began to desperately fiddle with the lamp.

     “You have to switch it on at the base,” Finnick said.

     There was an agonizing silence. Nick sheepishly flicked the lamp’s switch at the bottom, bathing Finnick in light. He was sitting in an armchair, arms crossed. He stared at Nick sadly. Judy hid in the doorway.

     “So,” Nick said, “I’ve told her our whole play. And I’m here. To take her money back. How’s that make you feel?”

     Finnick let out a sigh. “Disappointed,” he said.

     “This isn’t the ending you wanted?” Nick asked. “I wonder how that feels.”

     “It doesn’t matter now,” said Finnick. “This is the way it ends. So, let’s get it over with.”

     “Where’s the money, Finnick?”

     “I ate it.”

     “Give it to me, asshole.”

     “I don’t want the money,” Judy said from the doorway.

     “He is not going to keep a single cent of you,” said Nick.

     Finnick stood up with a sigh. He stared at Nick coldly.

     “I really am sorry you fell in love with her, Nick,” he said. “But she’s a _mark._ And all of this, all of this is a con. Every moment you shared with her, you were just playing the part of a fox in love with a rabbit.”

     Nick glowered at Finnick, his lips starting to curl into a snarl.

     “That’s what you’re afraid of, isn’t it?” Finnick continued. “That you don’t know the difference? Or maybe there _is_ no difference. Maybe that’s what love _is._ ”

     Judy grabbed Nick’s hand. “We’re leaving,” she said defiantly.

     “No,” Finnick said, his gaze still focused on Nick. “You’re too scared to leave. You’re scared to ride off into the sunset, if you were ready for that you wouldn’t be here.”

     Nick felt himself trembling with anger. His eyes began to blur with tears.

     “The money is in my room,” Finnick said. “Right behind me. But in _my_ story, Nick, you don’t get the money, _or_ the sunset, _or_ the girl.”

     Nick threw himself forward and planted a fist on the bottom of Finnick’s jaw. Finnick stumbled back and hit the wall, hard. Nick pushed towards his room, but Finnick grabbed his foot. Nick landed hard on his chin. Finnick pulled Nick towards him and began to pound on him.The brothers writhed together on the ground, claws out and teeth bared. Judy watched in horror as they savagely tore into each other. Finnick managed to throw Nick off of him, causing Nick to slam into a table. Finnick quickly jumped to his feet.

     The table tipped over, and Honey’s gun slipped off and hit the ground. The gun went off upon contact.

     Judy screamed.

      Finnick’s eyes glazed over. He slowly looked down at his chest, were a pool of blood was beginning to spread on his shirt. He coughed into his paw, and pulled his hand away to reveal speckles of blood on his fur. He wiped his mouth and smiled weakly.

     “...Heh...tastes like tin foil…”

     Finnick crumpled to the ground. Nick rushed over to him and lifted him into his arms. He started lightly slapping his cheek.

     “Finnick…” Nick said. “...Finnick, c’mon stay with me…”

     Nick began to press down on Finnick’s chest with the edge of his shirt. Tears began to fall from his eyes. Finnick hacked and coughed, blood dripping from his lips. Nick started shaking. He gave Judy a desperate look.

     “Help me,” he rasped. “ _Help me!_ ”

     Judy didn’t move. She stood in the doorway, watching. Nick kept trying to clean up the blood. He kept telling Finnick to keep his eyes open, to stay with him, to say something. Finnick grabbed his chest, wheezing, deaf to Nick’s pleads.

     Suddenly, Finnick went limp. His head lolled back over Nick’s thigh. Nick let out a shuddery breath. He began sobbing as he drew Finnick into his chest. He slowly rocked back and forth, Finnick’s arm dangling lifelessly from Nick’s hand. Nick slowly looked up from his brother to Judy, still standing in the doorway.

     “ _...Get out of here…”_ he breathed, clinging to Finnick.

     Judy slowly walked towards Nick. She kneeled down next to him and his brother sprawled in his lap. Her face was blank. She laid a gentle paw on Finnick’s chest.

     She slowly began to unbutton his shirt. Nick slowly looked up. Judy gently reached into Finnick’s shirt and pulled out a burst squib.

     Finnick slowly opened his eyes. He raised his head and looked down at his now bare chest. Nick stared into the floor. Neither of them dared meet Judy’s eyes.

     Judy stood up, walked out the door, and slammed it shut. A picture fell off of the wall and shattered on the ground. Nick jumped at the noise. Finnick looked into his room.

     Honey slowly opened the bedroom closet. She looked at the brothers lying in the center of the room, covered in fake blood. No one said a word.


	16. Judy the Con Artist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three months later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're gettin' close to the end my dudes, buckle up

     Judy was back at her estate in Herdsey. She sat at a picnic table at the far edge of her sprawling backyard as she drew in her notebook. She hunched over the paper, sending arcs of ink cascading over the ships and trains and hotels and castles from her memory. She sighed.

     Her pen slowly came to a stop. There was a pause as Judy stared at the pictures before her. She flipped a couple pages back. She read over something she had written. After a moment, she let out a trembling sigh and closed her notebook. She slowly slid it into her pocket.

     She stared into the grass and clicked her pen.

     The mansion obliterated behind her. The shock wave knocked her hat off the table. Tiny pieces of stone and tile landed merely feet behind her. She slowly stood up and walked out the gate, not once looking behind her.

* * *

 

     Nick was awakened by the loud opening of curtains. He raised a paw over his eyes as he sat up in his hammock. He let the bottle in his hand drop to the floor.

     It slowly rolled over the cobblestone floor towards the doorway. Judy stopped it with her foot.

     There was a long silence.

     “Hello...” Judy said.

     “...Hey…” said Nick.

     “Is this a light house?”

     “...Yeah, it...it is…”

     “How hungry are you?”

* * *

 

     Judy and Nick sat outside the cafe. A waitress came by and set a coffee in front of Judy. She walked towards Nick with another, but he raised his paw. After a brief pause, she slowly walked away. He solemnly glared at Judy.

     “How did you find me?” Nick asked.

     “Honey,” Judy answered.

     “How did you find _Honey_?” Nick asked.

     “She gave me her number when we first got to Mouseico.”

     “She gave you her _number_?”

     “Yeah,”

     Nick let out a slow gust of air. “I didn’t even know she had a cellphone,” he muttered.

     “I think she’s kind of selective in who she gives it to,” said Judy.

     The waitress arrived with a basket of fruit. Nick rubbed his temples.

     “Why are you here, Judy?” Nick asked.

     Judy sighed. “Why did you stay with your brother in Mouseico instead of coming with me.”

     Nick looked at the ground. “Everything Finnick said was true,” he said. “It was a con.”

     “Speaking of which,” Judy said, “I’ve done a lot of thinking the last three months. I want you to consider something.”

     Judy pulled a piece of folded paper out of her pocket. She slid it across the table towards Nick. He picked it up and opened it. Inside was the phrase “Judy the Con Artist” written in various outlandish fonts.

     Nick tossed the piece of paper on the table. He glared at Judy.

     “Go away,” he said. “Everything Finnick said was true. I was just playing you as a mark. Everything between us, none of it was real.”

     There was a pause as Judy stared at his face. She gave him an honest smile.

     “I don’t believe you,” she said.

* * *

 

      _Nick watched from the porch of the Mouseican beach house as Judy walked away, a tiny gray speck in the distance. He wiped a tear from his cheek. Finnick sauntered out of the house, his shirt covered in fake blood._

_“Hey,” he said._

_Nick stared into the darkness, unresponsive. Finnick cleared his throat._

_“That was some interesting improvisation,” he said. “I think that was the most honest conversation we’ve ever had.”_

_More silence._

_“You actually connected a few of those punches,” Finnick mumbled, rubbing his jaw._

_“Did you really expect me to do it?” Nick asked. “To come here tonight and finish it the way you first wrote it? Or were you really disappointed that I didn’t actually run off with her?”_

_“I was disappointed,” Finnick said. “I wasn’t surprised though.”_

_Nick whirled around and punched Finnick with all of his might. Finnick was thrown off the stairs and landed in the sand. He brought his hand up to his nose in pain. As he lowered it, he saw it was smeared with blood. Real blood. Tears were streaming down Nick’s face._

_“I let you do your monologue, you son of a bitch,” Nick said, “but you wanna know why  ? I did it so that she would never want to see me again. To make her hate me so that she would never come back, to get her away from you, and this, all of this. Do you know what that feels like?! Do you even  care  ?!” _

_Finnick looked up at Nick from the sand in fear. Nick threw his paws in the air and stormed off in the direction opposite of Judy. Finnick slowly laid down and stared up at the stars above him._

* * *

 

     Nick was crying at the table. He squeezed onto Judy’s paw as she rubbed his arm. Gladly, no one else was around to stare at them. Judy cradled his face and wiped away a tear from his cheek. She leaned in and gently kissed him. He kissed her back.

* * *

 

     Nick paced the room as Finnick stared at him from the hammock. He took a drag on a cigar.

     “So, she comes back wanting to work for us,” Finnick said matter-of-factly. “Honestly, I think we’d be lucky to have her. Though, I don’t think you called me here to hear my opinion on the matter.”

     “I did what I did in Mouseico because I wanted to get her out of all this,” Nick said.

     “You made that pretty apparent,” said Finnick.

     “You’re not getting the point,” Nick said. “I would rather die than bring her into the con.”

     Finnick slowly raised his eyebrows. His shoulders lifted into a shrug.

     “...Okay…” he said. “So...maybe, you should tell me why I’m in Itaily.”

     “You knew she’d come back,” Nick said. “What did you figure she was good for, another million?”

     “ _One point seven five,_ ” Finnick said, blowing smoke into the air above him.

     Nick sighed. “We will play her again, one last con,” he said, “but _not_ for money. I’m gonna be the one who decides how this ends. You built us into this, now you’re gonna fly us out.”

     Finnick put out his cigar. He looked up at Nick.

     “Whaddya want me to do?”

      “I want you to get her out of here,” he said, “End it so she’s done with all of us for good. End it all so it can’t start up again.”

     “You want me--” Finnick began, “--to plan a con whose sole purpose is to blow her off for good?”

     Nick turned to Finnick and gave him a shrug.

     “I love her,” he said. “You owe me this.”

     “What are you scared of?” Finnick asked. “Why not just keep her here with you, it’ll make you both happy.”

     Nick sighed. “I don’t wanna turn her into _me_.” he said.

* * *

 

     The intrepid four were united once again. They sat around a booth in a cafe, drinks in hand.

     “So, what’s our next con?” Judy asked excitedly.

     “Well, uh... _no_ ,” Finnick said. “Before we do our next job, we need to liquidate our assets from the _last_ one.”

     “But,” Judy stammered, “You have--”

     “--Your money, I know,” Finnick said. “That’s profit, not capital, the three of us already split it up. So, step one: sell the prayer book.”

     Judy’s brow furrowed. “I thought is was a fake,” she said.

     “With all your random expertise,” said Finnick, “we couldn’t risk just a flat out _fake_. Granted, it’s not worth two point five million, we could maybe catch four hundred grand for it, but it’s real.”

     “Who do we sell it to?” Nick asked.

     “Manchas, right?” Nick asked.

     “Perfect,” Finnick said, “Manchas will give us a great price.”

     Honey handed Finnick a piece of paper. He read over it and his ears drooped.

     “...If Manchas wasn’t _dead_ ,” he said.

     “Shit.” Nick said. “Well, there’s Delgato or McHorn. Or Wolford, if we wanna go stateside.”

     Finnick shook his head. “All traceable,” he said. “With Manchas out, we’d have to go deep black market if we want to be a hundred percent clear. There’s only one place that’s deep enough for that.”

     Honey and Nick shifted in their seats uncomfortably. Judy looked at them nervously.

     “Where?” she asked.

     “Tundrussia,” Finnick said. “It’s like ‘cancer,’ I don’t even like saying the word.”

     “Even more dangerous than Mouseico?” Judy asked.

     Finnick shuddered, eyes wide. “You don’t even know,” he said.

* * *

 

     The trio huddled in the kitchen. Finnick leaned his elbow on the unlit stove.

     “Obviously,” Finnick said, “We’re not dealing with real Tundrussians. They’ll be our guys in a phony set up, they’ll take the phony book and give her phony cash, a closed loop. Safe and simple.”

     “Okay,” Nick said. He looked to Honey for approval. Her face was blank.

     “So,” Finnick said, “We go to St. Cheetahsburg.”

     Nick’s eyes popped. He whipped his head to Finnick, but he didn’t receive a response.

     “She does the fake handoff with our fake ‘Tundrussians’,” he continued, “But while we’re driving out of town, everything goes bad.”

     Finnick pulled out a napkin. Written upon it was a simple three-step flowchart. Box one said “Judy sells book”.

     “We discover that we were sold a counterfeit book in the first place,” Finnick said, “and that we’ve sold it to Tundrussian smugglers. We discover this when the Tundrussian mob starts taking us out one by one. 'Oh shit.' ”

     Finnick pointed at the second box, “Red Dawn”.

     “First, they ambush our car, destroying the money,” said Finnick. “Then, they take Honey out, then me, and finally you Nick, in a heroic death that allows Judy to barely escape with her life. Devastated but reborn with the knowledge that you loved her so much you died so she could live, she drives off into a romantic life of adventure and peril, on the run from imaginary Polar Bears.”

     Finnick drew his finger to the final box: “The End”.

     “What do you think?” he asked with a smirk.

* * *

 

     Nick sat in a chair in the lobby. He was playing Black Yak with Honey. He seemed to be losing very badly. Finnick walked around the corner, hat in hand. The two looked up.

     “Who’s winning?” he asked.

     Nick gave him a cold stare. “Who do you _think_?” he responded.

     “C’mon,” said Finnick, “Our ‘Tundrussians’ have arrived.”

     The three began walking down the stairs to the lobby. Nick adjusted his tie.

     “So who did you get?” he asked.

     “Hm?” said Finnick.

     “You know, to play our Tundrussians.”

     The three turned the corner to see a group of polar bears waiting at the registration table. At the center stood Koslov talking to the concierge, golden lighter in hand. He clicked it closed.

     Nick firmly grabbed Finnick by the collar and dragged him back up the stairs. He pulled him into the hallway of the elevator and slammed Finnick’s shoulders against the wall. Honey grabbed Nick by the back of his coat and pulled him off of him. Nick slapped Honey’s paws of of him, glared at Finnick, then began to angrily pace the hall.

     “Look, Nick--”

     “I don’t understand,” Nick said simply, “Tell me so I understand. Three months ago you were ready to _blind_ this bastard--”

     “We need someone who can pass as the Tundrussian mob to buy our fake book,” Finnick said. “KV’s got his big store right here in St. Cheetahsburg.”

     “Alright, fucking _stop_ ,” Nick said. “You wanna finish this is St. Cheetahsburg, you wanna this to end with KV for some, some what? Some thematic something? Fine, but don’t tell it like a story, let’s say it like it is. Twenty three years ago, Finnick, and I can still hear his voice whispering in my ear, I can still feel his breath down my neck, I can still feel his paws squeezing me around my torso, I still see his goddamn blood-red apartment whenever I close my eyes. I hate him, Finnick. But this isn’t even that. I don’t _trust_ the bastard.”

     “What’s he gonna do?” asked Finnick, “Steal our fake money?”

     Nick’s lips trembled in fury. Finnick sighed.

     “I’ve thought this one out,” Finnick said, “Believe me. And we can’t end it without him. Trust me. It’s gonna be okay.”

     Nick angrily pushed a tear from his eye. He said nothing.

* * *

 

     Finnick slapped the red leather briefcase onto the table. Koslov smiled.

     “Ah, Finnick,” he said, “Still the grand architect with your symbols. Red for temptation, white for salvation.”

     Koslov popped it open, revealing stacks upon stacks of hundreds. He sighed.

     “Impressive, boys…”

     “It’s shit,” Finnick said. “There’s visible cross-hatching in Benjamin Pangolin’s eye.”

     “Hm,” Koslov said, “Well, I’ll be damned.”

     He suddenly closed the suitcase and slid it back across the table.

     “Polar Bears wouldn’t be caught dead handing over a rag bag like this,” Koslov said. “It should be a steel attache.”

     “This’ll do,” Finnick said. “We’ll do the drop off at your store. Make it scary, think a movie version of the Tundrussian mafia, but don’t hassle her.”

     Koslov nodded his head as he took the suitcase back. Nick stared for a moment at the scar through Koslov’s fur on the top of his hand. Koslov stood up as his thugs gathered around him.

     “I look forward to meeting the lady,” said Koslov. “Take care, boys.”

     And with that, they left.

* * *

 

     Honey brought the brothers around a brown Puegoat. Finnick leaned against it.

     “Okay,” he said, “Our fake Tundrussian attack tomorrow. One small charge will simulate a bullet hit, and blow out the back window.”

     Honey produced a pointer and tapped a small nub on the rear windshield.

     “So that one detonation happens,” Finnick continued, “And we roll off the road. Once we get clear of the car, Honey sets off the final charge, incinerating the car and the money in the trunk, along with herself. This’ll all happen exactly twenty seconds after we cross the bridge heading out of town. After the bridge.”

     “Okay. How are we gonna do that?”

     “We’ll pretend she’s stuck in the car. We have a dummy for her that’ll get blown to smithereens, we’ll switch her out while you drag Judy out of the car. It’s your job to make sure she doesn’t see the exchange.”

     Nick nodded.

     “After that,” he continued, “The Polar Bears corner us, I get shot, you two run a little before they grab you. You’re taken back to a warehouse where you’re both tied to a chair. We do a Saw-like scenario, where you have to choose whether or not they shoot you or Judy. Obviously, you decide yourself. She watches you die in front of her, they leave her to wallow, she notices the ropes are loose and weak...and boom, off she goes.”

     Nick took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said.

     “Think you can pull all this off?” Finnick asked.

     Nick swallowed. “Yeah,” he said.

* * *

 

     Nick and Honey stood on the balcony of the hotel, staring down into the abyss of the floors beneath. Nick turned to Honey.

     “You’ve been awful quiet,” he said.

     Honey didn’t look at him. He looked back down at the floors below him. He sighed.

     “You know, I’m doing this for _her_.”

     He turned back to her, but the hall was empty. He looked down the other direction. She had completely disappeared.

     Nick rubbed his neck and walked down the hall. He lightly knocked on a door. Judy opened it. They simply stared at each other for a moment.

     “Lose your key?”

     “Yeah.”

     Judy opened the door further. “Do we have an extra?” she asked, ushering him inside.

     Nick threw his coat across the chair and emptied his pockets on the table as Judy sleepily walked back to the bed.

     “I don’t think so,” Nick said, “I think they only gave us two.”

     Judy lifted up the covers behind her. Nick stumbled over and tiredly plopped underneath. He wrapped his arms around Judy and began to match with her breathing as the blankets settled over them. They slowly began to drift off.

     “Tomorrow it all starts,” Judy sleepily mumbled.

     Nick squeezed her tighter, realizing that it would be the last time he ever held her again.


	17. The Red Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The con begins

     The three stared at the bright red red door across the alleyway. Its cobblestone walls soared above them and laced into the surrounding buildings. A pile of trash sat by the doorstep.

     The Peugoat hummed gently. The trio sat silently as they watched a pack of leaves brush by the door in a gust of wind.

     Judy had been in there for seven minutes.

     “She gives Koslov the book,” Nick said, “He gives her the fake money. This is taking too long.”

     Suddenly, the door swung open. A frazzled Judy walked out, holding a metal attache.

     Finnick turned around to look at Nick in the back seat. Nick stared back. He turned and popped open the car door for Judy. She stepped in and lay the attache on her lap.

     “What happened?” Nick asked.

     “He hassled me,” said Judy, closing the door. “I had to hard sell him on buying it, then he haggled me on the price. He tried to pay me in Rubles.”

     Finnick snickered. Nick took the case from Judy and opened it. Inside was all the money. He looked up at Finnick and nodded.

     “Alright,” Finnick said, “We’ll stop in a few minutes so Nick can toss it in the back. Let’s blow this place.”

     Honey slammed on the pedal, and the four of them rocketed down the alley way, away from the apartment at the end of it.

* * *

      The car barreled down the country road, the city rapidly disappearing behind them in the rear view mirror. The bridge was about half a mile away and approaching quickly.

     Nick stared down the road from the back seat. His fur ruffled lightly from the breeze coming in from the cracked windows. His eyes were weary. He held Judy’s paw in his.

     This was the end. There was no going back after this. In about a minute, everything Nick had ever known would be torn to shreds. He would probably never see Honey again. Who knows where she would go off to. Finnick would probably call him every now and then, just to say hi, but it wouldn’t be a regular occurrence.

     Within the next few hours, Judy would walk out of his life for the last time.

     Judy slowly guided Nick’s head to her lap. He let her pull him, and he softly plopped on his side. Judy slowly began to stroke his fur as he sank into her. He felt his eyes get heavy and slowly begin to close.

**CRACK**

     Nick bolted up, eyes snapping open. Judy whipped her head to him, eyes wide. He met eyes with Finnick for a moment, and he looked equally surprised. He saw Honey’s eyes in the mirror for a second, and they were filled with uneasiness.

     Nick’s eyes darted to the bullet lodged in the top left corner of the windshield. It looked as if it had come through the opening at the top of the driver’s window.

     They still hadn’t reached the bridge.

     Suddenly, the left window shattered. Nick pulled Judy down as she screamed. He felt the flying glass sting his cheeks as he heard heavy gunfire tearing into the side of the car. Honey’s window exploded, causing her to slump down behind the steering wheel. Bullets whizzed over their heads, lodging into the ceiling of the car or smashing through the opposite windows. One of the side mirrors blew off. Nick felt the door jolting against his shoulder as a line of bullets thwacked into the side of it. A tire blew out, and the car began to swerve as Honey desperately pulled at the steering wheel.

     He peeked over the edge of the door to see a large black van racing after them. A large Polar Bear leant out the side of the sliding door, holding a machine gun in hand. He opened fire on the car, sending more cascades of shattered glass over their heads.

     The rear window exploded. Bullets began zipping over their heads from the back. Nick and Judy were now covered in glass.

     Suddenly, a lightning bolt of pain shot down to the root of Nick’s left ear. He concaved, clutching it in agony. Judy shook his shoulders, shouting to him. His paws came down covered in red.

     The car veered off the side of a highway embankment.

     Nick was flying.

     For a moment, he met eyes with Finnick.

     They were empty.

     The car slammed into the ground, sending the four of them flying to the right. Judy crashed into Nick’s ribcage as his face slammed into the earth. His vision went blurry as he felt himself rolling sideways. He finally settled down upright, and he smelled something burning. He heard Finnick scream something about getting out, and he felt the door swing open. His legs carried him stumbling away from the car as he felt someone pushing his back. He forced himself to run. Suddenly, there was a bright flash behind him. A gigantic invisible wall slammed into him, knocking him off of his feet and into the ground.

* * *

      Shapes of light.

     Green, lots of green.

     Something flickering and orange in the distance.

     Black coming towards him.

     Black pass him, go to small white and tan beside him.

     Black grab small tan.

     Dark.

* * *

 

     “NICK!”

     Nick awoke with a start. His head was throbbing. He grabbed his head and looked around himself.

     He was propped up against a tree in the middle of the forest. Raindrops were landing on his face and chest, beginning to wash away the blood matted in his fur on the left of his head. About ten feet away from him sat the charred remains of the Puegoat. What used to be a honey badger dummy was reduced to threads and stuffing, sitting where the trunk once was. His eyes panned left to land on Judy kneeling at his side.

     “What happened?” he asked.

     “Are you alright?” said Judy.

     “What happened?” he asked.

     “Ginseng went to get another car.”

_Who?_

     “She left about ten minutes ago.”

     “Where’s Finnick?” Nick asked.

     “We don’t know,” said Judy. “He was gone.”

     The words repeated over and over in his head. _Finnick is gone. Finnick is gone. We don’t know where he is._

     Nick shakily stood to his feet, clutching his head. Judy supportively grabbed his arm.

_Finnick is gone._

     He shuffled over to the remains of the Puegoat. He ran his paws over the bullet holes left in one of the remaining doors.

_Finnick is gone._

     He let the smell of burnt rubber and leather enter his nostrils. He reached up and lightly pawed the missing chunk from the top of his left ear.

_We don’t know where he is_.

     Nick turned around and looked where Finnick had landed. There was a manilla envelope lying in the grass in his place. He stumbled over to it and slowly picked it up.

     “We’re going to find him,” Judy said. “If he escaped, he’ll contact us. If they’ve got him, it’s for ransom.”

     “Who got him?” Nick heard himself ask.

     “The Tundrussians.”

_If they’ve got him, it’s for ransom._

     A loud honk pierced the air. Judy and Nick looked up. Someone slid down the side of the embarkment. A figure pushed through the bushes and branches and leaves, plowing towards them. Honey emerged into the clearing, holding a new pair of keys. She looked Judy and Nick solemnly.

_Finnick is gone._


	18. It's A Con (part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finnick is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hang on tight guys, the end is nigh

_      Sometimes, a con will completely blow up in your face, and there’s not a lot you can do about it. You don’t really have another choice but to allow your hands to get a little messy  _

_      You should absolutely avoid guns if possible. Blunt force trauma is also a bit of a reach, and doesn’t always wipe the memory. If anything, when a con falls flat, get out as early as you can before the curtain of reality comes crashing to the ground. If you need to take care of someone, rough them up a little bit before doing anything drastic. If they still don’t cooperate, it’s simple…get rid of them by any means necessary. _

_      Do what you can without anyone raising an eyebrow, clean up the cluttered pieces, then move along. _

_      Also, if they can overpower you, either physically or mentally, kill them before they kill you. You don’t want to put yourself in a situation that you can’t get yourself out of. _

_      Which is exactly what’s happened. _

_      Finnick, god please what’s happening. _

_      I don’t know what to do. _

      _I don’t know, Finnick, please._

_      Please. _

_      What’s happening. _

* * *

 

     Nick’s paws trembled as he loaded his revolver. It rested heavy in his hands. He looked up at Judy out the window, looking at the old and abandoned pumps under the roof of the gas station. It was completely deserted and desolate. Nothing had flowed through those hoses in decades.

     Nick swallowed as he slid the last bullet into the cylinder. He clicked it back into the frame and gave it a half-hearted spin. He raised the gun and lightly tapped the barrel against his skull. He sighed and let the gun fall back into his lap. His head plopped down onto the steering wheel.

     Suddenly, a large black Puegoat came barreling into the parking lot and screeched to a stop at the entrance, blocking it.

     Nick leapt out of the car and aimed the gun, finger trembling on the trigger. He retreated behind the green Ox Wagen bug that Honey had gotten for them. Judy came sprinting to his side, brandishing her own small pistol. Nick cocked the hammer back with his thumb and swallowed.

     Honey stepped out of the Puegoat, dressed in a large overcoat and a hat. 

     Nick let the gun fall down to his side as Honey walked towards them. He rubbed his eyes. Judy sighed.

     “Where does she get all these cars?” Judy asked under her voice.

     Nick motioned for Judy to stay back as he approached Honey. They came toe to toe in the middle of the parking lot. For a while, they stared at one another in silence. Finally, Nick took a trembling breath.

     “You know,” he said, “If you know what’s happening, now would be a really good time to speak up.”

     Honey placed her suitcase on the ground in front of Nick.

     There was a beat.

     Nick slowly looked back up at her, shaking his head.

     “No...please,” Nick quietly begged, “Not now. I need your help here, I--I don’t know what to do, Honey.”

     Honey placed a heavy paw on Nick’s shoulder. She gave him a nearly imperceptible smile. Suddenly, she looked down at her feet for a moment. When she released Nick’s shoulder and brought her head back up, her eyes were watery and bloodshot. She wiped her nose on her sleeve.

     She really was leaving.

     She reached into her pocket and handed Nick a folded piece of paper. She mimed a phone up to her ear, nodding to Judy as she walked back towards the car. Judy joined Nick in the middle of the lot, watching Honey leave.

     “What did she say?” Judy asked.

     “Not much,” Nick answered. “But in a way, it’s the most she’s ever said to me.”

     Nick unfolded the note. Inside it was a short phrase written in Urdu. He looked back up at the car door closing.

     “Thanks,” he said, getting cut off by the starting engine.

**_BOOM_ **

     The shock wave from the explosion hit Judy and Nick like a freight train. The two of them were thrown into the air, and they landed on the pavement back-first. They slowly sat up and looked at the flaming infrastructure of the Puegoat in front of them. A fiery tire slowly rolled past.

     Honey was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

 

     Nick looked long and hard at the translation displayed on his phone. Judy sat next to him in the passenger seat, crying. Nick let the sentence on the screen roll over and over in his head.

_      ‘We are all assholes in our own theatrical enterprises. Goodbye, shithead.’ _

     Not exactly what he had been expecting at first glance. However, Nick had read that ‘shithead’ was supposed to be a sarcastically endearing term in Urdu, and he realized that Honey must’ve had a very blunt sense of humor. However, the message Honey had been trying to convey was what really disturbed him. He would have never expected such wisdom from her.

     He slid his phone back into his pocket. Judy looked up at him as she wiped her eyes.

     “What does it mean?” she asked.

     “I don’t know,” said Nick.

     “Okay,” Judy said, “What does it  _ say _ ?”

     “It said ‘we are all marks in our own cons’,” said Nick, “And then she said goodbye.”

     “I still can’t believe it,” Judy whimpered, laying her head against his shoulder.

     “That Honey fell for a car bomb?” Nick asked. “Neither can I.”

     Judy looked up at him, her face suddenly filled with hope.

     “What?” she asked. “Oh...Oh god...do you think she faked it? So the Tundrussians would think she was dead?”

     Nick opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn’t find any words. He slumped in his seat as he picked up the manilla folder next to him and unsheathed its contents. Inside was Finnick’s notebook. He opened it and began to flip through the pages.

     A drawing of a lighthouse.

     Judy’s complete profile, a full two pages devoted to her various hobbies.

     Telephone numbers.

     Bogo’s address, and their appointment times.

     A plan to plant the fake book in the utility space.

     A grocery list.

     A drawing of Judy.

     A practice page for forged signatures.

     A drawing of Nick.

     The original script for the Mouseico fight.

     As Nick turned the page, something fell out. It was Finnick’s napkin, including the three step flowchart for their final con. Nick’s eyes came to rest on the last box.

_      ‘The End.’ _

     Nick sighed and placed the manilla folder on the dashboard. He absentmindedly gazed inside of it, and he noticed something. He picked it back up and squinted his eyes as he drew his face closer to something small written on the inside.

     ‘ _ an unwritten life’ _

     Underneath it was a folded piece of paper that Nick hadn’t noticed before. He pulled it out and unfolded it on his lap. Written on the inside was a letter written in Tundrussian in big, black letters. Judy looked at it.

     “What’s that?” she asked.

     There was a long beat as thoughts swam through Nick’s head. Suddenly, he turned to Judy.

     “Okay,” he said, “This wasn’t just some group of Tundrussians. This was done by an old mentor of ours who wants to get us off the map. He has an apartment in St. Cheetahsburg. So this is...yeah. I’ve gotta go find Koslov and get my brother back. That’s how I’m gonna end this.”

     “Lemme see the letter,” Judy said.

     “You speak Tundrussian?”

     “Yeah. Why?”

     “Of course you do,” Nick said, handing Judy the letter.

     Judy leaned towards the paper and began to scan it, muttering to herself in quiet Tundrussian. As she progressed, her face slowly began to fall. She slowly began to straighten up, and her brow furrowed. Nick swallowed.

     “What, what is it?”

      Judy slowly looked up at him.

     “It’s a ransom note,” she said. “It says they have Finnick. It says they want it wired to a specific account, they give a bank to do it at and a manager to ask for. Then, it gives an address to come to at two p.m….that’s in two hours.”

     “I’ll wire the money from my account--” said Nick, “--and then we’ll go get Finnick.”

     Judy swallowed.

     “It’s a lot,” she said.

     “How much?” asked Nick.

     “It’s--I’ll do it, I want to, it’s fine, I’ve got plenty--”

     “How much are they asking for?”

     Judy took a deep breath.

     “One point seven five million dollars.”

     Nick’s world began to slowly spin. He felt his stomach knot and his heart push up into his throat. He braced his hands on the steering wheel as he tried to get rid of the dizziness in his head.

     “Oh,” he groaned. “Oh, no no no no no no, no,  _ no, NO! _ ”

     He slammed his fists on the dashboard. The car swayed. Judy pressed her back against the door, watching Nick in fear. He was breathing very hard.

     “What?” Judy asked, “What is it?”

     “No, I’ll kill him,” Nick muttered, “I’ll kill him if that’s what this is, if that’s what all this is, no,  _ no, NO! God DAMMIT! _ ”

     Nick punched the steering wheel angrily. Judy backed further away from him.

     “What are you talking about?” she asked.

     “Okay,” Nick breathed, “There’s another possibility that I should have--I’m a fucking idiot--this might all be a  _ con.  _ By my brother. To get me--oh my  _ god _ , he wanted me to face KV, to end it, and he gets your money. Oh god, I’m gonna be sick…”

     Nick doubled over and clutched his stomach, his head pressing against the steering wheel. Judy protectively grabbed his shoulders.

     “Would he really do that?” Judy asked him. “To  _ you _ ?”

     “I don’t know, I--yes,” Nick said, “Yes, of course he would. To tell a story so well that it becomes real. The perfect con. That’s his whole--goddammit, that’s what this is…”

     “But you don’t know,” Judy said. “Let’s transfer the money, you don’t know--”

     “Son of a  _ bitch-- _ ”

     “You don’t  _ know, _ ” Judy repeated.

     Nick ran his shaking fingers through his fur. Judy held his arm.

     “This is your brother’s  _ life _ ,” she said. “I’m gonna wire the money.”

* * *

 

     Nick watched as Judy exited the bank, a solemn look on her face. She opened the door and got into the car. They sat for a moment in silence.

     “I’m gonna regret this,” Nick said.

     “You would’ve regretted it if we didn’t do it,” Judy said.

     Nick sighed and held his face in his hands. Judy lifted his chin up, and Nick faced her.

     “Let’s get Finnick.”


	19. Finale Ultimo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "All the world's a stage,  
> And all the men and women merely players;"

     The charred remains of the abandoned theater loomed before them. The white walls were framed in black, parts of the wooden infrastructure exposed. The marquee was tilted, and all but a couple letters had fallen out. The doors hung haphazardly on their hinges, about to collapse.

     Judy and Nick stared at the broken theater from the Ox Wagen. Nick checked his revolver one last time before putting it in his coat. He checked his watch.

     It was 1:58.

     Nick sighed and placed his paws on his knees, mentally preparing himself. He felt his arms trembling. Judy gently place her paw on his shoulder. He looked up at her, his face laced with fear.

     “I’m so scared,” Nick whispered. “Anything I can imagine finding in there I’m scared of.”

     Judy pulled him into an embrace. She slowly rubbed his back. Nick held onto her tight, trying to hide his tears.

     “I know you’re scared,” Judy said. “But admitting it and still going through with it is the bravest thing you can do.”

     Nick pulled away and wiped his eyes with a sniffle. Judy held his hand.

     “I’m going to be right here when you come out,” she said.

     She softly kissed him. Her paws ran through the fur on his neck. He cradled her face in his hands gently. They remained there for eternity.

     Finally, Nick pulled away. Judy stared deep into his eyes.

     “I love you,” she said.

     Nick swallowed hard. He gave a small smirk.

     “I love you too,” he choked.

     He placed his paw on the door handle. He took a deep breath. He opened the door and stepped out of the car.

* * *

      The inside of the theater was completely dark, except for the trickles of light that pierced through the cracks in the walls. The entirety of it had been reduced to ash, skeletons of seats lining the floor. Dust hung in the air. A large backdrop with a slit in the middle hung in front of the stage.

     Nick slowly walked in, listening to the deafening silence. He made his way to the center of the room, where the crumbling wreckage of seats were strewn. He loudly cleared his throat.

     “Finnick...” He called.

     He heard his voice echo through the rafters and the balcony. There was no response. He took a step forward.

     “Finnick!” he shouted, “Show’s over...c’mon out…”

     A spotlight snapped on with a loud clank, showering Nick in a blinding light. He whirled around and looked up at the balcony. He covered his eyes.

     A voice shouted to him in what was presumably Tundrussian.

     Nick gazed past the blinding beam to see the outline of a figure behind the spotlight, but he couldn’t distinguish what species they were. Whatever it was, it was something large. They repeated the Tundrussian command. Nick nervously shrugged at them.

     The light lifted from Nick and panned upwards onto the slit in the backdrop.

     Nick slowly turned and began to climb up the stairs to the stage. He heard the floorboards creak as he walked towards the backdrop, his hands shaking with every step closer that he took. He looked back up at the spotlight to see that the mammal was gone.

     Nick swallowed.

     He slowly turned and stepped through.

     The stage extended into darkness. The light bleeding through the backdrop only provided a minimal glow, and Nick could only see some old set pieces in the wings beside him. The rest of the stage was pitch black. He slowly started to walk forward.

     “Finnick!” he called.

     Silence answered.

     Suddenly, a hand-held lamp clicked on from the back of the stage, bathing something sitting next to it in a pale yellow light.

     Finnick sat tied in an old wooden chair, his face covered in bruises and cuts. His shirt was drenched with blood, both old and new. His eyes were droopy, his head sat at a tilted angle on his neck, and his chest was heaving heavily. He slowly looked up at Nick.

     Nick cried out and instinctively took a step toward him.

     “ _No!_ ” Finnick rasped, “No Nick, freeze!”

     Nick stopped in his tracks. He followed the lantern to a gloved paw, attached to a large figure in a black coat standing behind Finnick. Nick couldn’t see their face. Finnick breathed heavily.

     “Did Judy wire the money?” he asked.

     Nick nodded quickly.

     “Okay, don’t move,” Finnick said, “They’re checking right now.”

     The figure behind Finnick raised a cellphone to their ear and whispered into it. Nick fearfully glared at Finnick.

     “Finnick, what the hell is this?” he asked, “What’s going on?”

     “Jesus Christ, Nick, I’m so sorry--”

     “I don’t need _sorry_ , Finnick,” Nick breathed, “I need the _truth_.”

     Finnick stared at him desperately and slowly shook his head. Nick felt his mouth slowly curling into a snarl.

     “Goddammit Finnick, tell me what this is,” he growled, “Tell me what to do.”

     “Tell you what to do?” Finnick asked. “Get the hell _out_ of here--”

     “Tell me the _truth,_ Finnick! Is this all just a con, or is this _real!_ ”

     Finnick glared at Nick in disbelief. He slowly raised an eyebrow.

     “A _con_?”

     The figure tossed the cellphone to Nick. Nick quickly threw his paw up and caught it. He stared at the phone in disbelief. He slowly looked back up at Finnick.

     “This is _real_ , Nick,” Finnick said softly.

     Nick slowly raised the phone up to his ear with a trembling paw. He listened to the crackling air at the other end of the line. He felt anxiety settling into his veins as his brain filled with the static from the phone. Suddenly, a voice crackled to life from the speaker.

     “ _Hello, Nicholas…_ ” Koslov sang from the other end of the line.

     “Goddammit Nick, I’m telling you, this is _not_ a con--”

     “ _Are you happy to hear from your old teacher? It has been much too long..._ ”

     “These are KV’s thugs, he’s double-crossed us for revenge…”

     Nick stared at Finnick deep into his eyes as he heard Koslov chuckle on the other end. Finnick was absolutely terrified. He was telling the truth. He straightened up in his chair.

     “Dammit, Nick, _run_!” Finnick shouted.

     “ _I told you that Finnick would fall,_ ” Koslov whispered throught the static. “ _And you?_ ”

     Finnick was thrown out of his chair onto the floor. He landed hard on his chest and yelped in pain. He shakily tried to raise himself from the ground.

     “ _You are_ _paralyzed_.”

     Finnick couldn’t raise himself up. His arms were too weak. He started hacking, speckling more blood onto the floorboards. The figure slowly came out from behind the chair.

     “ _You’re praying that this is just another one of Finnick’s games. But...is it?_ ”

     The figure stepped behind Finnick on the ground. He slowly raised a gun from his side and aimed it at the back of Finnick’s skull.

     “ _Close your eyes, sweet child…_ ” Koslov whispered, “ _...and I will tell you the truth…_ ”

     Nick slowly began to feel his eyes drooping closed. He watched as Finnick and the figure faded into darkness. He held his breath.

     He heard the gun cock.

     Nick let the phone drop from his hand as he opened his eyes. He flicked his wrist, letting the revolver slide down from his sleeve and land in his hand. He raised the gun at the figure as a cry escaped from his throat.

**_“NO!”_ **

     Nick fired into the darkness. The figure staggered backwards. They raised their gun and fired at Nick. Nick ducked his head as he retreated behind a large set piece near the wings, still firing. Bullets whizzed over him as pieces of wood splintered past him. Nick curled himself up as small as he could as he listened to the loud cracks of the enemy’s gun fill the air. He leaned out from the side and fired into the blackness.

     Suddenly, the firing stopped. He heard the click of the hammer hitting an empty cartridge. Nick quickly looked up and saw the figure hiding down behind a large pillar that had been thrown onto its side. Finnick laid flat on his chest, still out in the open. Nick rushed for him.

_“Wait!”_ Finnick said, _“He’s got another gun!”_

     Finnick launched himself off the floor and into Nick’s chest, sending him stumbling backwards.

     A shot pierced the air.

     Nick felt Finnick's body jolt.

     They slammed into the ground. They lay there in silence, breathing heavily as the dust whirled around them. Finnick rolled off of Nick as he slowly sat up. He heard footsteps quickly approaching.

     The figure flew past them and through the backdrop, his hand latched onto shoulder. Nick stood up and broke through onto the other side of the stage. He emptied his gun at the mammal fleeing up the aisle. They pushed through the door and disappeared into the blinding light of the other side.

     Nick was breathing heavily. He lowered his gun, staring at the door as it swung. He tried to swallow, but his throat had completely closed up. He looked at the floor, panting.

     He heard an agonized groan from behind him.

     Nick burst through the backdrop to see Finnick sprawled on the floor, a blotch of blood flowering on his back. As he rolled over, Nick took a slow step closer.

     “Please tell me this is all gonna be okay,” Nick whispered. “Please tell me that that’s a squib and that that’s all makeup and you just gave me what I always wanted and that you pulled off the perfect con.”

     Finnick began to violently cough. His body shuddered on the floor with every hack he emitted. Suddenly, he coughing stopped. His head rolled to the side and his body went limp.

     Nick’s heart stopped.

     Suddenly, Finnick’s neck twitched.

     It twitched again.

     Gradually, palpitations began to run all the way up his body, his limbs beginning to flail. Suddenly, he froze with his arms drawn inward, an over-dramatized grimace on his face.

     Nick’s face fell into a glare.

     Finnick’s eye slowly pried open. A smirk began to appear on his face.

     “You said it, not me,” he said.

     Suddenly, Finnick rolled backwards over his head and jumped up onto his feet. He threw his arms up in a grand gesture. He lowered them as he gave Nick a smug grin.

     “Can I get a ‘wow’ for this one?”

     Nick swallowed hard. He raised his eyebrow.

     “Wow,” he mumbled.

     Finnick began to walk towards him. Nick let the gun drop from his hand as he plowed towards Finnick, his fists balling up.

     “You son of a _bitch…_ ”

     But he sank to his knees and threw his arms around Finnick, weeping. Finnick squeezed him back. Nick burrowed his face into Finnick’s shoulder.

     “I was so scared…”

     “I know, I know you were…”

     “I didn’t know what to do, I thought they had you, I…”

     “Shhh, it’s okay, I know, I’m here…”

     The brothers remained in the embrace for a while, basking in the warmth of the spotlight’s muted glow.

     Finally, Finnick pulled away with tears in his eyes.

     “You did it,” he said, “You’ve done good. I want you to promise me never to come back to St. Cheetahsburg again.”

     Nick nodded. Finnick spat out some more blood.

     “Tastes like tin foil,” he muttered.

     Nick found himself laughing. Finnick gave him a playful shove.

     “Alright, here’s what I want you to do,” said Finnick. “Honey split?”

     “Yeah,” Nick said. “Clean exit.”

     “How?”

     “Car bomb.”

     “Ah,” Finnick said, clapping his paws together, “Perfect. Okay, here’s what you do. Take Judy back to Bellsinki, take that flight to Leo de Janeiro. Lay low like we said. Play out the whole on-the-run-from-vengeful-Tundrussians thing, that’ll be fun for her. Play it like I’m dead, actually--that’ll add some gravity to everything.”

     “And then what?” Nick asked.

     “Then,” Finnick said, “I’ll see you when I see you.”

     Nick smiled. “Soon?” he asked.

     Finnick laughed. “I hope not,” he said, “Last thing you need is me hanging around. Anyway, how could I top this?”

     Finnick gestured to the theater around him. Nick chuckled and hugged him again. Finnick hugged him back with a smile. After a moment, Nick pulled away and stood up. He walked back through the backdrop onto the open stage, and then he descended the stairs into the house. He stopped in the center.

     Nick turned around and looked up at Finnick onstage.

     “I love you,” he said.

     Finnick smiled back, answering with his eyes.

     “Bye,” Nick said.

     He turned and walked back up the aisle. He began to think of the life he had ahead of him.

     Judy by his side.

     Finnick in the wings, cheering him on.

     Waking up in the morning for the first time, not knowing what was going to happen.

     An unwritten life.

     “Hey!” Finnick called.

     Nick turned around and looked at Finnick, standing at the very edge of the stage.

     “Think of a card,” he said.

     A smile appeared on Nick’s face.

     “Okay,” he replied.

     Finnick reached into his pocket and pulled out his deck of cards, stained with blood. He ruffled through them and pulled out the queen of hearts.

     Nick chuckled.

     “Wow,” he said. “That’s it. That’s the best damn card trick in the world. Just wish you had a bigger audience.”

     Finnick chuckled. “You’re the only audience I ever needed,” he said.

     He blew Nick a kiss. Nick raised his paw, caught it, then shoved it in his jacket. He gave his left breast a couple thoughtful pats. He then turned over his heel and walked out.

* * *

      Judy immediately got out of the car and ran to Nick when she saw him drenched in blood. He looked completely numb. She grabbed him and held onto him tight as he said something about the Tundrussians killing Finnick in front of him and how he didn’t have any time to save him and that it was all his fault. She quickly pulled him back to the car and drove off with him, away from the theater, away from the Tundrussians, away from the life Nick had spent so much of his life trying to escape.

     As the car barreled down the highway, Nick laid his head in Judy’s lap. He stared at the cuff of his shirt, bright red.

     This was the end. Everything had fallen into place, and now he was free. He no longer had to wake up next to a stranger. He no longer had to follow a script. He no longer had to force himself to do things he wouldn’t, say things he wouldn’t or act like he wouldn’t.

     He didn’t have to be someone that he wasn’t.

     He was free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS NOT THE END!!!!! There is one more chapter after this, where something VERY important is revealed! Stick around for the next and final update!!


	20. An Unwritten Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The perfect con is where in the end, everyone gets everything he wants."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry.
> 
> (lol no I'm not)

     Nick was floating. In water or air he wasn’t sure. It felt like water, but he wasn’t having any trouble breathing. He looked at the empty space around him.

     Everything was off-white with a slight hint of orange. The atmosphere looked like it was filled with dust or ash. He watched as it slowly drifted down past him.

     The skeleton of the flaming brown Puegoat rose from beneath him. He watched as flaming bills trailed from it, cross-hatching over the eyes. It slowly rotated in the air as it drifted upwards, as if tied to a balloon.

     Suddenly, Honey was inside of it. Her face was covered in blistering burn marks, dark and charred, and her head rested at an odd angle on her neck. Her mouth hung open. Her arms hung limply out the door as her scarf trailed behind her. Her pupiless eyes gazed into space, pale and milky.

     Nick watched as her lifeless body continued to float upwards past him into the sky.

     He looked behind him to see _T_ _he Gazelle_ ascending, engulfed in flames. It slowly broke in half down the middle, wood splintering into the air in slow motion. Animals slowly glided out into the atmosphere from the festering wound, all white-eyed and lifeless. Bogo drifted past, his coat fluttering softly behind him. Pictures of him and his daughter flowed out of his coat pockets, large black 'X's haphazardly drawn over his daughter's eyes. Blood slowly trickled from his nose.

     Nick looked underneath him to see Finnick slowly rising from the depths of the void. When his body rotated towards Nick, his face was covered in bruises and cuts, his shirt stained with blood. His eyes were also white and soulless.

     Suddenly, a pistol shot rang out. Nick saw the bullet slowly pierce out of Finnick’s stomach and watched as ribbons of red trailed behind it. Blood slowly began to spread up the front of Finnick's shirt. It began to envelop his front completely, reaching up his shoulders and neck. Before long, Finnick had been covered head to toe in his own blood, fur wet and matted. His voice rang out from somewhere behind Nick.

_“...The day I con you is the day I die…”_

     Something slowly floated towards Nick from the distance. Something wrapped in flowing fabric. As it got closer, Nick saw that it was Judy. She was wearing a light blue dress that trailed behind her as if through water. Over her head was a burlap sack, tied around the neck with a piece of rope. As she got closer, two small red dots appeared where her eyes were. They slowly got bigger, and bigger, and bigger, until the whole front of the sack was drenched in blood.

     A large, snow-white paw grabbed Nick’s ankle.

     Nick felt himself being pulled down. He desperately reached for Judy as her lifeless body raised into the atmosphere above him. He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. The space was slowly enveloping him in darkness as he descended. He felt someone breathing on the back of his neck. He was suffocating.

_“...Close your eyes, my sweet child…”_

* * *

     Nick awoke with a jolt. He was in the Ox Wagen, his head in Judy’s lap, roaring down the country road. Judy immediately cradled his head and stroked his fur with her free paw, shushing him.

     “It’s okay,” she said, “It’s okay. You’re here with me, we’re just about to pass the bridge. Are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?”

     Nick took a shuddering breath. He saw his paws trembling. He clamped his eyes shut and watched the patterns that danced on the back of his eyelids.

     “Yeah,” he said, “I’m--I’m fine.”

     He opened his eyes and stared at the interior of the car. He traced the lines of the faux wooden dashboard with his eyes, following the flowing and meandering wisps of black in the dark brown. Nick focused on his hands and watched as they slowly unclenched.

     He noticed that something was off.

     He looked back at the dashboard for a moment, then brought his gaze back to his shirt cuff. The color matched.

     His cuff had turned brown.

_“That’s the one major design flaw in fake blood, by the way,” Finnick said, “The real stuff turns brown after thirty minutes.”_

     Nick slowly sat up, heart pounding. He opened his coat and looked at the rest of his shirt. It was covered in bloody pawprints from when Finnick had tackled him.

     They were all brown.

* * *

     Chair legs dragging across a wooden floor echoed throughout the empty theater. The backdrop was pushed aside, revealing Finnick holding the old wooden chair by its back. He slowly stumbled out to the edge of the stage, chair trailing behind him.

     He slowly set the chair down. His knees buckled as he pushed it back from the edge a bit. With great effort, he pulled himself up. He collapsed in the chair with a grunt. He felt the blood squelch in the hole in his back. He could feel his lungs filling with fluid.

     Finnick sat back in his chair with a groan. He tried to regulate his breathing as he stared at the empty theater around him. His eyes burned in the blinding spotlight centered on him, causing spots to frame his vision. Or was that the lack of oxygen in his brain?

     Finnick palmed the queen of hearts in his paw. He chuckled as he gently pushed it up his sleeve with his finger. He hacked and sputtered, spraying blood and fluid into the air. He wiped his lip with a trembling paw.

     He could feel his chest on fire, desperately fighting against him. His limbs were heavy, and his head was pulling at the muscles in his neck. He slowly leaned it backwards until it rested on the chair’s back.

     He remembered seeing Nick walking out the door, looking the happiest he had ever looked in twenty years. He remembered waiting until he heard the roar of the engine fading into the distance before he collapsed to his knees with his arms clutching his sides. He remembered seeing his blood splatter onto the floor in front of him as he pulled the bullet the rest of the way out of his stomach with his claws.

     Finnick gazed out into the darkness of the theater, basking in the light. He could almost hear the thunderous applause.

     A breeze began to flow through the theater. Finnick chuckled.

     And he made an exit.

     The breeze died down, leaving the theater silent. Finnick’s limp body sat askew in the chair, his lifeless eyes staring up into the infinite. Blood began to slowly pool in his mouth until it spilled over and trickled down his lip.

     A drop of blood formed at the corner of the queen of hearts. It fell into the darkness.

* * *

     Nick launched himself out of the halted car into the field of flowers at the side of the road. He heaved through his clamped throat, stumbling blind from the tears filling his eyes. He tripped over the uneven earth and fell on his chest. With a desperate groan, he slowly raised himself from the ground and sat back on his knees. His head lifted to the sky and a primal, heart-wrenching scream erupted from him, tearing through his throat with razor-like claws. His stomach lurched, and he suddenly threw his head forward as he vomited.

     Nick wiped his mouth and curled into himself, clinging to his stomach in agony. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t hear, the world was crashing down around him, his head was spinning, he wanted the earth to open beneath him and swallow him whole, he wanted it all to stop.

     Finnick was _dead_.

     He could have _saved_ him.

     It was _his_ fault.

     Judy threw herself over Nick’s shoulders. He hugged onto Judy tightly and buried his face in her chest. He wept about how Finnick was dead. How he had thought that it was all going to be okay. How it was his fault and how he wanted to die and how he wished it could’ve been him instead. Judy cradled his face, saying no, no there was nothing else he could’ve done, it wasn’t his fault, everything _was_ going to be okay. She said that she was there with him in this moment. She would protect him. He would be alright.

     Nick pulled away from her, wiping the tears from his eyes with the heel of his paw. Judy stared at him, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. She swallowed.

     “You know,” she said shakily, “Finnick told me something once, and I think I agree with him. I don’t think there’s such thing as an unwritten life…”

     Nick looked at her with a trembling lip. Judy placed a gentle paw on his shoulder.

     “...Only a _badly written_ one.”

     Nick fell into her, unable to hold back the tears. Judy held him in her arms, kissing his forehead and his cheek, whispering to him that it would be alright. Nick sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve, choking. Judy held his chin and gently raised it.

     “You know what we’re gonna do?” she asked.

     Nick wiped his eyes and stared at her, bleary-eyed. Judy smiled, the fur on her cheeks streaked with tears.

     “We’re gonna _live_ ,” she whispered. “Like we’re telling the best story in the world.”

     Judy grabbed onto his paw and squeezed it. Nick squeezed hers back. She cupped his cheek with her other paw, and Nick put his hand over hers. She looked at him gently.

     “Are you ready?”

     Judy slowly stood and began to walk back towards the car. She turned back and held out her paw to Nick, a welcoming look on her face. Nick looked up at the sun setting through her soft gray fur, causing it to sparkle and shimmer in the light. He stared into her deep violet eyes. He took a deep breath.

* * *

_At that moment, I thought of another thing that Finnick once said. “The perfect con is where in the end, everyone gets everything he wants.”_

_Well…_

* * *

     Sunset with her wine-red fingers fell over the road as the little green Ox Wagen chugged off into the horizon. A piece of paper flew out the window, twirling madly in the air. It slowly came to a stop on the pavement, folding over the middle. It was the napkin with Finnick’s final flowchart written on it. It sat with one box pointing up to the sky.

     #3.

_The End._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has joined me in this journey. This was a crazy story to write, and you guys gave me so much support to keep me going. I fed off of every little slice of appreciation you guys threw at me. Every comment, every kudos, and even every read through spoke wonders. I will definitely be writing new stories in the future, so stick around. My updating schedule may not be as regular since I will be going into my senior year of high school, which will be absolutely insane (as you can imagine). You can always follow my tumblr at judys-carrot-pen.tumblr.com if you want to shoot me some questions, give me prompts, see some more of my stuff, or just want cool zootopia stuff on your dashboard. Again, thank you so much for the support you've given me, and I'll see you guys with my next work.
> 
> -JudysCarrotPen


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